The Grey Dove
by White Gray
Summary: There is much more to Horcruxes. New faces with secrets and scars. New friends and new enemies. Mysteries waiting to be solved. Albina comes from a land far away, a land of ancient legends. She seeks Dumbledore to reveal a secret to him. Snape is suspicious and puts his nose into things he shouldn't. DH-compliant, Hogwarts, post-Hogwarts, Horcruxes, Animagi, Levitation and more!
1. Prologue: The Disappearance

THE GREY DOVE

_WARNING: Some chapters containt Pottermore spoilers!  
_

_Disclaimer: The original story of Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. This story is fanfiction made for personal use and for the enjoyment of my fanfic friends only. I am making no money with it. This disclaimer is applicable to all chapters that follow._

_White Gray_

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PROLOGUE – THE DISAPPEARANCE

_I killed Severus Snape three hours ago..._

No one noticed a small dark figure slinking out of the Great Hall at these precise words while Harry and Voldemort were circling each other like two hostile predators. The stranger ran out of the castle and stopped abruptly before descending the stone stairs. As the pastel morning light illuminated the face under the hood, one could distinguish an ashen expression of a young woman. She suddenly whistled in a high pitched voice as if she was calling for a pet animal. Then she pulled something out of pockets with shaky hands and extended a shiny brass tube. It seemed to be an ordinary spyglass. The stranger scanned the area that was flaming out in the morning sun. The red orange just peaked over the horizon and gave enough light to the spyglass' owner. The woman concealed under a short hooded coat seemed to find what she was looking for and broke into a wild run, jumping over obstacles the battle had left behind as if a bloodthirsty Chimaera was chasing her.

She was running down the path leading to Hogsmeade village when a tall horse-like shadow suddenly burst from the sky and landed in front of her, its large bat-like wings creating a gust of air that almost pulled the hood off the woman's head.

"Persephone!" the woman yelped short-winded and mounted the Thestral in one swift practiced jump that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. The winged horse-like creature took off immediately with amazing speed, shooting across the sky towards a cluster of thatched houses.

Not even a minute later they landed at the edge of the village. The woman jumped off the animal and ran towards the nearest building. Just when she reached her destination, there was a bang like a cannon blast that echoed all over the Hogwarts Grounds, the Great Lake, the Forbidden Forrest, the Hogsmeade Village, and over the ramshackle shack, in front of which the person clad in dirty grey clothes halted suddenly because of the startling sound, before she found an entrance point and disappeared inside.

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_I've had enough trouble for a lifetime._

Harry headed for the door from the round Headmaster's office, turning away from the painted eyes which were all fixed upon him appreciably. He had nothing but the cosy four-poster bed in his mind. He pondered whether he should ask Kreacher for a sandwich at all. He was more tired than hungry. Besides, he was sure the loyal house-elf was just as tired as he was after the nightlong battle. Slightly before he would have reached the door, he heard Hermione ask, "Hey, shouldn't there be Professor Snape's portrait somewhere in here?"

Harry turned around tiredly and glanced over the frames. Snape had been the Headmaster, so Harry figured that after his death his portrait should have appeared in the round office, just like Dumbledore's. He expected to find a new frame with the man's dark figure somewhere on the walls. He was sure he would hear a bitter remark containing an acid mention of his surname at any moment. However, Snape's portrait definitely wasn't there. How come he hadn't noticed it right away?

"Maybe it takes time to appear," Ron suggested sleepily and waved his hand disinterestedly, probably thinking that the artwork was the least important thing at the moment.

"It couldn't last this long," Harry rejected Ron's idea. "I remember that Dumbledore's portrait appeared right after—" He broke off and narrowed his eyes, directing his look at Dumbledore, whose face suddenly became serious. A cold shiver ran up Harry's neck upon seeing the expression the painting composed. His instinctively knew that something was wrong.

"It couldn't be," breathed Harry, his eyes fixed on the painted Headmaster. His mind was struggling with the idea that Dumbledore's painting was suggesting.

"How did Severus – supposedly – die?" Dumbledore enquired guardedly, clearly implying what Harry was starting to suspect.

"Bitten in the neck by Nagini. Badly," said Harry, giving him a curt answer. "You don't think he could have... _survived_?"

"Nah," Ron discarded the notion before the painting could give Harry an answer. "It's not possible. We were all there – we watched him die. And we all know what that snake could do – just remember my dad," said Ron, shaking his head dismissively.

"Oh, but I believe it is possible," Dumbledore's portrait told them gravely. The young adults lifted their heads alertly, not quite believing what they had just heard as the old man continued talking.

"After all, your father has survived the attack, as vicious as it had been, hasn't he?" He directed his knowing eyes towards Ron.

"Let's be reasonable here. Perhaps the portrait didn't appear yet because Hogwarts is practically in ruins," Hermione suggested. "Maybe the castle doesn't have enough magic left."

"Of course, there could be some other reason that I'm unaware of, which could explain the absence of his portrait," said Dumbledore. "However, considering the manner of his _supposed_ death... Fortunately Voldemort hadn't used the Killing Curse. All would have been lost if it were so. As I've suspected, he didn't dare using the Elder Wand against the man he though was its true master," he said more to himself than to anyone else, a tinge of something like hope in his voice. "Did you see Severus try to apply anything to his wound?" Dumbledore asked collectedly.

"No, nothing," Harry firmly stated. Dumbledore averted his gaze in thought.

"Even if he would have used something," Hermione objected to the idea, "he was still severely injured. He had lost an enormous amount of blood. We saw him take his last breath, left him there with eyes wide open!" she exclaimed. "I can still hear that horrible gurgling sound in my ears..." she whispered, her voice trembling, while Dumbledore silently soaked up every bit of information with narrowed eyes, his expression getting darker by the second. Harry and Ron both clenched their jaws, the unpleasant image resurfacing in their minds.

"It's just not possible – only Phoenix tears would be potent enough to cure a wound like that," Hermione finished determinedly. Instantly afterwards she widened her eyes and gasped as a certain idea crossed her mind. Harry and Ron looked at her with alarmed expressions, and then all three of them turned their heads to Dumbledore, thinking the same thing. _Fawkes._

"I'm afraid your assumption is incorrect. Fawkes is a free Phoenix now. Phoenix tears aren't that easy to collect either," the portrait informed them, knowing exactly what was on their minds. "However, there is something else that might have been potent enough to save his life," he said mysteriously. "Look behind me." Dumbledore motioned to them with a jerk of his head.

Harry understood this immediately and swung the portrait sideways to reveal a small hidden cavity – the same one he saw Snape retrieve the Gryffindor Sword from in the Pensieve. This time the chamber contained a line of dozen or so carefully placed and corked vials. They were all very small, no bigger than an average man's little finger. Some had metal ring hangers pierced halfway through the cork stoppers as if they were meant to be worn as a pendant. He took one out and held it out in the light to identify its content.

"What is that?" said Hermione, contracting her eyes in attempt to establish what Harry was holding in his outstretched hand. There seemed to be a dark red liquid in there as Harry shook the vial a little.

"Is that blood?" asked Ron, his face wrinkling up in disgust.

"No blood of red colour has such healing powers," Hermione rebutted him, convinced in what she was saying, but Harry caught sight of Dumbledore's twinkling eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. Not knowing why Harry suddenly remembered that Dumbledore was the one who discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood and was partnered up with Nicholas Flamel – and Flamel knew things no other wizard had known.

His trail of thought was cut by Ron's voice. "What about unicorn blood?" his friend suggested.

"It's silvery, Ron," Harry told him. "I saw it with my own eyes when Quirrell was drinking it from a dead unicorn back in my first year. And it's horrible to kill a unicorn. You live a cursed life if you try to save yourself by drinking its blood."

Harry remembered all too well when he and Hermione both got detention in the Forbidden Forest for getting caught out of bed while sneaking Hagrid's pet dragon Norbert to where he belonged – out of Hagrid's wooden hut. He also kept in mind what the centaur Firenze had told him about the unicorns.

"It could be some other blood then. Like the blood of Re'em or something," Ron suggested.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, have you ever even bothered to properly read any book besides _Quidditch Through the Ages_? Re'em's blood only gives its drinker immense strength. Can I have a look at that?" she lectured and reached for the vial in Harry's hand. She carefully uncorked it and smelled the content. "I'm not sure what it is," she reported. "It doesn't have a distinguishable smell. It reminds me of… the smell of stone or soil perhaps. I don't think it's blood – it just couldn't be. No such blood exists. Not that I'm aware of," she added a bit less confidently, glancing over at Dumbledore.

"Then what is this stuff?" asked Ron, a bit annoyed, motioning at the unidentified liquid. They turned to Dumbledore's portrait questioningly.

"I am not going to tell you what these vials contain, but rest assured that the substance in them is invaluable," the late Headmaster said firmly. "Listen carefully now." He gained attention from all three of them once more. "Here is what you should do. If you find Severus alive, immediately apply the content of the vials to his wounds, drop by drop, until you notice an effect. The remedy will put him into a deep slumber. You will not be able to wake him up or tell if he is still alive or not until he wakes up on his own, which might take hours." He paused and eyed them to make sure they understood.

"Next, I want to have all the remaining vials removed from the hidden storage behind me. Take it and use it on the injured. I'm sure there are many who need it. Use it only on those who need it most, preferably if they are unconscious, asleep, or at least lying down. Be careful to use it discreetly. You can apply it to the wounds or make them drink it. Few drops are usually enough. Do not show it to anyone and do not elaborate on what it might be. Dispose of all the evidence. Will you do this?"

The three teenagers stared at the portrait and nodded mutely. At this point they knew that if Dumbledore did not inform them about every single detail, he probably had a good reason for doing so. Silently they grabbed all the vials, hiding them in their pockets. They figured they would need all of them for there were still many injured combatants in the Great Hall and the Infirmary, despite the fact that some were already transferred to St Mungo's.

Harry decided to temporarily leave the Elder Wand behind Dumbledore's portrait where the vials have been safely stored. He trusted the thin layer of canvas and paint to guard it better than he could. Swinging the portrait back in its place, he caught Dumbledore's worried expression again. A bitter feeling wrapped itself around his chest.

"It isn't over yet, is it?" Harry realised. More things to take care of, new secrets and further instructions without an explanation emerged just as he thought all had finally ended.

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and smiled sadly. "There never is over. You might have had enough of trouble, but you will find out that trouble has a tendency of never having enough of you."

"Hurry up, let's go," said Hermione impatiently, pulling Harry out of his pensiveness.

They rushed out of the office and down the spiral staircase. When they reached the top of the marble staircase Harry quickly put his Invisibility Cloak back on to avoid any interruption along the way. They hurried past the Great Hall before anyone could ask them where they were going and headed to the Shrieking Shack.

Harry was leading the way, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what to think about the possibility of Snape still being alive. So much has happened over night and he was so tired that he couldn't think properly any more. He decided he would worry about it if he sees the man with eyes wide open and alive again, which was, in his opinion, highly unlikely.

As they entered the old building, their ragged breaths suddenly halted.

"Is this a good sign or a bad sign?" Ron asked as the three of them were staring down at the empty floor of the dusty shack with baffled expressions.

There was nothing but a vast puddle of dark blood on the floor. The body of Severus Snape had disappeared.

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	2. Chapter 1: The Quidditch Stadium

Note: I didn't notice that I posted an old version of this chapter. If you've read it already, I apologize. Here is the correct version with small but important plot changes.

WARNING: This chapter contains Pottermore spoilers about wands.

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THE QUIDDITCH STADIUM

_Four years before the Battle of Hogwarts._

The Quidditch World Cup was an event without equal in the magical world. Wizards and witches from the four corners of the Earth, even from communities where Quidditch had never been played, had come to see the spectacle. However, there was at least one particular person, who did not come just to see the thrilling game on brooms.

Albina was a young foreign woman in her mid-twenties and of big grey eyes. She had pallid skin and long unruly strands of ash blonde hair. At a first glance her overall appearance suggested that she wasn't someone who would likely stand out in a crowd. Yet she was noticeable and special in other ways. For example, she was far more interested in the enormous stadium she was currently ascending than any other visitor.

The stadium was breath-taking. She had never seen anything alike. The gold perimeter walls and the enormity of the structure took her breath away. She stood there gaping, not realizing that she was barricading the stairs to the upper levels.

"Spicciati!"

"Mach schon!"

"Get a move on!"

There was a horde of multi-lingual complains rushing its way from nervous Quidditch enthusiasts behind her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with blood. She hurried to catch up with her friends, who have already reached the platform where their seats were located.

The platform she arrived to had seven rows of purple padded chairs decorated in silver lines, and was conveniently located right in the middle of the triple goalposts. It was quite crowded already, but it didn't take long until she found her friends; they were two teenage boys and two young men roughly the same age as her. She sat beside them in the very end of the fifth row and thus had a fairly nice view over her fellow-spectators. She adjusted herself comfortably in her seat, took a small sketchbook out of her handbag and started one of her favourite activities – observing people. It was a useful tool for not having to deal with herself. Her expressive grey eyes were always wide open during this occupation, scanning the surroundings and absorbing every detail.

These people were especially interesting to her and thus her sketchbook was soon full of new drawings and notes. It wasn't only because they wore mismatched and in some cases utterly hilarious Muggle attires; nor because of their bizarre tents with small chimneys lazily puffing smoke (a couple of Greeks even had two ionic columns guarding the entrance to their snow-white tent and Albina just couldn't resist poking at them to see whether they were really made of marble). It was also the sheer number of them. She had never seen more than maybe a hundred wizards and witches in one place at the same time. Here there were probably tens of thousands of them, of over a hundred different nationalities, all here to see the two rival teams flying on brooms.

Besides observing it, she also listened attentively to the crowd around her chattering in numerous languages.

"... kann den Bann nicht brechen..." a wizard was saying with an overgrown moustache that kept trying to tickle him beneath his large red nose. She suspected his facial hairs had been hexed to do that. Surely this was not a normal behaviour for a man's moustache, even if it was growing on a wizard's face. The wizard was clearly one of the few at the platform who were supporting Ireland; he was wearing that silly green hat with dancing shamrock along the trims. There was a strong chance that a large group of teenagers seated behind him, wearing roaring Bulgarian scarves and waving little flags that sang Bulgarian national anthem, had something to do with it. They were squirming in suspicious fits of laughter.

"...j'ai entendu dire que les Bulgares ont..." a French girl was explaining enthusiastically, but Albina never heard what it was about the Bulgarians, because the two girls behind her were chatting incredibly fast, the lions on their scarves roaring loudly in her ears.

"...non dirmi che ti sei dimenticato di portare l'Omniocolo..." a well-kept Italian witch with a strong nose and shiny black hair raised her voice over the noise, apparently scolding her good-for-nothing son.

"Is it true that the Bulgarian mascots are Veela? I heard somebody saying they saw them earlier..." a wizard in deep blue robes was asking his companion wearing the same smart clothes. Many wizards and witches apparently changed back into more familiar attires, for there was no point in blending in with Muggles in the middle of a Quidditch match.

"...nejlepší místa pro peníze..." said an extremely pleased with himself round man while his curly-haired wife was shooting him doubtful looks. A small broomstick came darting past Albina's eyes at that point and one of the teenagers wearing Bulgarian scarves came running behind it, tripping over people's feet.

Albina was most familiar with the English and Italian language of course; after all, she had started learning both as a child. Then there was German, French, and – perhaps Slovak? It was a Slavic language without a doubt; she recognized some familiar words that were pretty much the same in her mother tongue.

_"Hey, Albina, what do you say, do you like the stadium?"_ asked one of her companions in their language, waking her from her favourite activity. Silvan was a good-looking tanned young man with a golden earring in his left ear, seated right next to her. He was wearing rectangular glasses with thick black frames that he constantly had to adjust, for they were quite heavy and were thus sliding down his nose all the time.

_"Oh yes, very much, though it's a bit too showy for my taste. It's interesting how the fact that the game is played in the air affects the form of the building. I don't know why I thought I would see something similar to a football stadium. And the light – it's so surreal, like the stadium itself is glowing—"_

_"Actually, the stadium _is_ glowing by itself. It's something we call _magic. _And please stop with all that 'form follows function' and 'ornament is a crime' nonsense of yours. Not everyone here went to the same school you did,"_ commented a rather brute looking guy seated next to Silvan. His hair and beard were all shaven to a few millimetres and he was wearing a black heavy-metal shirt with a grotesque skull on the front. His face bore a slight resemblance to an always annoyed bulldog.

_"You forgot my favourite quote; 'less is more',"_ she said teasingly.

_"You should listen to yourself then,"_ he retorted bitingly.

Albina rolled her eyes in annoyance and heaved a sigh. Robert Pestar always had a comment in store prepared to deliver it at any time and she was slowly getting used to the idea that he didn't really mean it. Robert had a small diagonal scar above his right eyebrow, which he got in a stunt accident, and according to Silvan he had been caustic and waspish ever since.

_"Come on Robert, give her a break. Nobody here likes your heavy-metal raucous either, but we endured it in the car all the way up here nevertheless,"_ said Silvan, disapproving his behaviour.

_"I had earphones! Plus, as I recall it, you only had to endure it till London," _Robert corrected him. _"We used a Portkey to get – here – shoo!"_ He fumed, chasing off the small Firebolt model that came zooming around again like an irritating fly.

Silvan sighed in annoyance and then turned to Albina, lowering his voice, _"Don't mind him, Bina. He doesn't know—"_

_"It's fine. I _know_ he doesn't know. It's been over two years since it happened. I got used to all the jokes and remarks," _she said dismissively._ "Besides, I know I can be a know-it-all sometimes. I can tell that I'm tiring you all with it, but I just can't help myself."_

There was a momentary silence between them, and then Albina spoke hesitantly,_ "You know, I haven't told you yet—"_

_"Told me what?"_

_"I've been taking Face Transfiguration classes with Mislena Skalar,"_ she said in a low voice so that Robert couldn't hear them, even though there was raucous all over the stadium.

_"Since when?"_ Silvan narrowed his eyes in surprise and adjusted his eyeglasses.

_"Since May." _

_"Why?"_

_"Because maybe I want to become a Guardian like you."_

_"You – a Guardian?" _he asked in disbelief.

Albina shrugged nonchalantly._ "Well, you know what they say: late bloomer – fast learner."_

_"How on earth were you able to convince Skalar to start teaching you?"_

_"Novak thought it was a good idea, so he convinced her."_

_"After you convinced him, you mean."_

_"Who, me?" _she said innocently.

Silvan shook his head disapprovingly._ "What about your diploma? You do intend to finish your study, don't you?" _

_"I don't know. I don't really need it. Maybe I don't even want to become an architect anymore." _

_"Bina, I think you should finish what you started," _he said in a brotherly fashion._ "Most of us have jobs that have nothing to do with magic, just so we have a steady—"_

_"I know,"_ she broke him off. _"I should keep my doors open. In case I don't qualify as a Guardian, there aren't many options left."_

Silvan pushed his glasses back on his nose and then he spoke again, _"So you have seriously considered a career of a Guardian? You do know what we do and how dangerous it can be, don't you?" _

_"Of course I do. I want to help catch dark wizards, and you know perfectly well why,"_ she said firmly, lowering her voice.

Silvan stayed quiet for a moment; apparently she did have a valid point.

_"However, first I thought I'd try and see if I could at least disguise myself properly," _she added._ "You and I both know I'm weak and unpredictable when it comes to magic. But I'm also stubborn and persistent."_

_"If it doesn't work out, you can always dye your hair and start wearing glasses," _he suggested and grinned._ "That alone could make a huge difference, but I'm afraid it's not going to get you accepted among the Guardians."_

_"Very funny," _she said resentfully. _"Just wait and see. I might surprise you all." _

_"So how's it going with Mrs Skalar?"_ he asked curiously after a while.

_"It's going well," _she said proudly._ "I think I could manage to disguise myself sufficiently. I can change hair and eye colour easily. The shape of my mouth and nose was a bit trickier. Now we're moving on jaw and cheekbones' shape, but I don't think I could manage that. It's very advanced and quite painful. I don't know, maybe the problem was that I never really liked using _that _wand."_

_"I think you're very brave to have been using it all this time," _said Silvan softly.

_"Well, nothing else worked for me properly, so there was no alternative. I can't believe I finally got my own wand in London."_

_"I still don't understand how we couldn't find a wand for you at Vespini's. I know Novak said it's probably because their shop at Trieste is quite small and their wands are very temperamental, but still—"_

Albina ceased to register what Silvan was saying at this point. Her mind trailed off to the recent memory of the purchase of her new wand. She still had it in the same narrow box in which she got it. It was safely stored in her black leather handbag resting in her lap.

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When she entered Ollivander's shop it didn't make an impression on her. It didn't look much for one of best known wand makers in Europe. However, as she had learned from past experience, the facade often told very little of what was inside.

There was one single wand on display placed on a faded dusty old cushion. The place was tiny; there was only one rickety chair in the corner. At least there was definitely much more wands here than at Vespini's shop.

Mr Ollivander struck her as quite an eerie man. His wide unblinking silvery eyes measured her suspiciously at first. He seemed reluctant to sell a wand to a grown up foreigner, when he didn't quite know where exactly she was from. Her people encountered the same problem quite often; the region where she came from was broken down in so many small magical communities that no one but them knew exactly where they were from and how they named themselves. However, when she mentioned Bacchette Magiche di Vespini from Trieste, his eyes narrowed with interest.

"How peculiar..." he said when she told him how Madam Vespini turned the whole store upside down but couldn't find a wand for her. Apparently this sparked up Mr Ollivanders' desire to prove himself. Surely a great wand maker like himself will find a wand for her, won't he?

"Well then, Miss…"

Albina realized he was asking for her name.

"Oh, I'm – just call me Albina," she said and pushed a charming smile on her face.

"That's a lovely name," he flattered her, wrinkling his face and revealing his aged teeth. Taking a tape measure out of his pocket he asked her to extend her wand hand. She lifted her left arm.

"You're left handed?" the wand maker asked her. She nodded and he methodically started to measure her arm. At one point he released the measuring device, leaving it hanging in mid-air while he started pulling a few boxes from the nearest shelves.

The tape measure did not rest. It kept evaluating her on its own, measuring all kinds of body parts, taking particular interest in her left shoulder, until Mr Ollivander ordered it to stop. Madam Vespini definitely didn't have that up her sleeve. Apparently the man knew his trade well.

"Here we go, Miss. Maple, eleven inches, unicorn hair, delicate," he said as he removed the lid and offered the first wand. She took it and gave it a wave. Nothing happened – but that was to be expected. However, by the time they got to the 57th wand, Ollivander seemed extremely worried and strangely excited at the same time, despite the fact that none of the wands showed any signs of compatibility with Albina's hand.

"Never had this tricky customer..." he murmured as he disappeared somewhere in the depths of his store only to re-emerge with a new load of packages. None of them worked for Albina either.

"Maybe I got it wrong somehow..." he said, wrinkling his forehead in thought. "What happened to your previous wand, if I may inquire?"

Albina hesitated slightly before answering.

"Actually, I just... don't like it much," she explained carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"I still have the wand – but I don't like it."

"Do you have it with you? May I see it?" he asked.

She retrieved it from under her right sleeve and handed it to him reluctantly, thinking this might not have been such a good idea.

"Gregorovich's work obviously," he murmured before he put on his spectacles. "Quite powerful... Made of hornbeam, with dragon heartstring core, twelve inches long; especially good for Transfiguration and not bad for Charms either, I reckon. A bit too bulky and rough for my taste, though."

He removed his spectacles and looked at her knowingly, "This is not your wand, is it?"

"Er... It is, it's been – how do you say… er... used before?"

"You mean handed down?"

"Yes. We have... er... not enough new wands in our country after Gregorovich retired," she explained in a rather rough indeterminable accent, hoping it would cover up her effort of thinking up a convincing answer.

"I see. Well, that explains why you don't like it. The wand must choose a wizard or a witch, not the other way around," he said, accentuating the importance of this fact by gesturing meaningfully with the spectacles in his hand before placing it back in his inner pocket. She nodded in understanding, feeling relieved that he seemed satisfied with her explanation.

"Let me see how you use this wand first. It might give me an idea of what you require," he requested.

"Alright," she agreed and retrieved the wand. Pausing to think which spell to use, her eyes fell on the enormous pile of boxes crammed on the spindly chair in the corner. She might as well do something useful. She exhaled calmly to prepare herself.

"_Dirigo!_" she demanded and lifted both her hands in a similar position like a conductor in front of a waiting orchestra. The boxes trembled, rose slightly into air and formed a neat cubic shaped pile.

"Well," said Mr Ollivander with raised eyebrows, "the wand seems to obey you, which is quite surprising, considering it's made of hornbeam. Nevertheless, I fully understand why you might not like it, so I suggest we continue with our search," he said, retreating back into the depths of his store. He brought back a single box that seemed quite old and tattered.

"Acacia, phoenix feather, ten inches, a bit swishy and quite an unusual wand," he recited from his head and handed it to her.

Again nothing happened; no sparks, no gust of air, not even a faintest prickle in her fingers. Mr Ollivander seemed disappointed. "Strange..." he murmured.

Albina was becoming quite worried. She really wanted to finally have her own wand. The thought of travelling all the way up here for nothing didn't sit well with her. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mr Ollivander tried to console her. "Don't worry, dear. We still have plenty of wands we haven't tried yet. I'm sure we can find something for you."

"I hope so. The last thing I need right now is coming home with empty hands. Again." She sighed in desperation.

Mr Ollivander observed her carefully and then he suddenly widened his eyes. "Yes, of course, that might be it..." he murmured into his chin. He retreated in the depths of his store again and brought out another box.

"Hawthorn, one single unicorn tail hair, nine inches, rather stiff," he said and handed it to her.

At first nothing happened and Mr Ollivander already tried to reach for the wand to place it back, but Albina instinctively dodged his grasp. She felt it. She felt the familiar feeling, the tiny warm prickle in the front area of her left shoulder.

"This one," she said, raising the short wand high up and producing a few tiny silvery sparks that reflected in Ollivander's surprised misty eyes.

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Back at the stadium she was staring at the same wand in her hand. She could not resist anymore. She had to take it out of the brown paper-wrapped box. The light coloured wood was slightly knotty and distorted, but it fit perfectly in her hand. She opened her sketchbook which also served as a diary and put a note in it.

_"Bought my very own wand, hawthorn, unicorn tail hair, nine inches, rather stiff."_

She stared at the words written with her black ball-pen and put a question mark above the number that told the wand's length. She was accustomed to the metric system, so she was curious how much centimetres nine inches was. Then she remembered Ollivander mentioning that her old wand measured twelve inches. Her new wand therefore measured exactly three quarters of the old one's length.

She inspected the wand carefully, absorbing every little detail. The wood was smooth and warm under her touch. Yes, the wand suited her perfectly, there was no doubt. What struck her as odd, though, was what Ollivander had said just before she paid nine galleons for it.

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"Quite curious, your old wand," he said mysteriously.

"Why is that?" she asked, an unpleasant feeling rising in her stomach.

"Hornbeam wands are notorious for being the quickest in adapting to their owner's style of magic, and will become so personalized, so quickly, that other people will find them extremely difficult to use even for the most simple of spells," Ollivander explained, staring at Albina with his unnerving misty eyes. "I myself own a hornbeam wand and know its nature better than that of any other wand. That is why I find it intriguing that you were able to coax any magic out of it at all. Was the previous owner a member of your family? Your father, perhaps?"

Albina almost had to remind herself not to gawk at the old wand-maker. "No, he was not," she managed to say hoarsely.

"So he must have had it in his possession for a very brief amount of time," said Ollivander.

"No, he... He had it his whole life," she said quietly.

"Strange. Very strange. Then it seems that you share a similar passion with the previous owner and the match was simply a lucky coincidence."

"No, we most certainly do not share a similar passion," Albina objected.

Mr Ollivander regarded her silently, piercing her with his watery eyes, but then he smiled.

"I should have seen it before. Full of paradoxes..." He chuckled rather amicably. "Yes, hawthorn fits you perfectly. Although I'm afraid this new wand might not work to your satisfaction. Hawthorn wands are prone to backfire, so you might find that your old wand suits you better. It is also much more powerful than the new one." Upon catching her look, he added hastily, "Please, don't feel offended by it, far from it! What you lack in power you surely compensate in skill. Brute power without skill is rather like a troll dancing ballet – and you, my dear, are no troll."

"That still doesn't make me a prima ballerina." She snorted at the funny comparison.

"True," said Mr Ollivander, his silvery eyes twinkling in amusement. "Yet I have seen with my very eyes that you most certainly are a fine witch, being able to control your old wand like you did," he assured her, handing her the thin parcel wrapped in brown paper with a wrinkled smile.

"Thank you," she said and bid him farewell before she exited on the cobbled street, wondering how on earth he could have guessed it all so right.

sss

_"It really was quite inconvenient that Gregorovich retired."_ She heard Silvan's complains echoing from afar. _"We were quite lucky that the World Cup is held in Britain this year, we had a double excuse to travel up here – otherwise you'd probably be stuck with one of those rigid Eisenberg's wands."_

The youngest of the Albina's four companions suddenly leaned forward to talk to the rest of his compatriots sitting in the same row. _"Hey, we've heard from those two Englishmen that Bulgarian mascots are Veela. I didn't know there are Veela in Bulgaria as well!"_ Luka exclaimed excitedly, breaking Silvan's monologue and waking Albina from her thoughts.

_"You thought our tiny country was the only one privileged to have them?"_ Robert grinned at the teenager, who rolled his eyes at him just like Albina did before.

_"I bet we at least have the prettiest ones,"_ joked Luka's older brother, wiggling his eyebrows at Albina, who rolled her eyes and gave him a well-measured look.

The two Kos brothers both had long sandy hair hanging over their eyes and covering most of their pimpled faces. Since they were the youngest ones in the group, they were also the biggest trouble-makers. Their Muggle parents were quite rich, so they were all able to afford Silver Class tickets thanks to them, as long as they filled the role of their nannies.

The five of them were quite a strange sight actually – as strange as they could be in a place like that, surrounded by what the majority of human population would mark as abnormal. All except Silvan, the tanned leader with glasses and a golden earring, were wearing authentic Muggle clothes. Albina was wearing black leather shoes, grey trousers and a simple grey blazer, warm enough against the chill of the night. She could simply blend into office personnel. Robert as a sworn metal-head was dressed all in black; the only thing lacking his image was long hair. The Kos brothers were typical teenagers dressed in jeans and dark red sweaters. Silvan was the only one who was wearing simple black wizard robes with the three Carniolan coat-of-arms on his chest: the blue eagle, the green dragon and the red fox, each representing one of the three parts of Carniola. He put it on just before they headed from the campsite to the stadium to proudly act as an ambassador of their community. Albina always joked about the colour combination of the coat-of-arms, saying it reminded her of the RGB colour model.

The colourful Carniolan coat-of-arms didn't go unnoticed for long. Two Englishmen, the same ones that enlightened the Kos brothers about the European Veela population, soon turned around in their seats to speak to them. They asked Silvan whether the green dragon represented the Common Welsh Green. The Kos brothers intervened, trying to explain where they were from to the two natives, who were by then convinced that their new acquaintances were Bulgarians, probably because they were all wearing red Bulgarian scarves. They were completely baffled when Silvan told them that the five of them were from Carniolan Magical Community and that Carniola, respectively called something that sounded similar to Krahnskah in Carniolan, was only one out of five magical communities found in their little country. Only when Robert mentioned Yugoslavia they deduced they must be Eastern Europeans, leaving Robert feeling mortally offended.

From what Albina could gather from the conversation, the two English wizards were cousins and had a company called Kitchen & Oven. At least that was what she thought she heard them say. It had something to do with Muggle products being used in magical world. They were interested in them because of their expert Muggle clothing and wanted to know if they would consider purchasing their latest products – such as portable radios, self-flushing toilets (never-ending roll of toilet paper included), talking toothbrushes that gave remarks about your dental hygiene (such as, 'Whoa, a rotten molar ahead!'), and a new line of compact photographic cameras ('You can hold it in just one hand!'). They complained about the British laws, saying there were outrageous restrictions on charmed Muggle products. They were delighted to hear that in Carniola there were none. At this point Robert launched into a story when he charmed his snowboard so that it could fly and asked them if the word 'Airboard' would be appropriate for his invention.

Later Mr Kitchen gave everyone their business cards that clarified their surnames in neat letters:

**Kitcher & Owen**

Modern Muggle applications for

contemporary magical households.

73 Diagon Alley, London

"We could expand our business to Eastern Europe." One of the Brits was now excitedly explaining what they were talking about for so long to a good-looking curly-haired witch in purple robes sitting next to him. Albina assumed she was his wife and was sure of it when she smiled charmingly at him and they interlocked their hands.

_"Eastern Europe alright..." _she heard Robert growl angrily. He always took it as a mortal offence if some poor unknowing soul placed his home country too far to the south or east.

Albina leaned back in her seat, ignoring Robert's nationalistic complaints, and prepared herself to enjoy the game. She took her new odd brass binoculars out of her black leather purse and tried them out. They were a gift from Silvan and, if she remembered correctly, they were called Omnioculars. She gasped when she realised they had some sort of a playback charm placed on them. She could see golden letters on a gigantic board hanging across their platform, near the top of the stadium, spelling the same ad for hair care potions again and again. She turned to Silvan to express her enthusiasm about the discovery, but the game had begun in that very moment with a typical loud announcement, "Ladies and gentlemen... welcome!"

First to appear were the team mascots, and so Mr Kitcher and Mr Owen were soon proven right, the Bulgarian mascots were indeed Veela. All her male compatriots exchanged knowing looks and stuffed fingers in their ears to prevent being enchanted by their singing and dancing.

After a shower of leprechaun coins Albina comfortably adjusted herself in her seat and fumbled with all the strange knobs and dials on Omnioculars. She could zoom in on the scene, rewind and replay it as she pleased. She even found one knob on the left side that boosted up or dimmed the light. She prepared herself to enjoy the match, not realizing that later in that very evening a chain of events will be set that will lead her life to being turned upside down once again.

Few platforms above her a fourteen-year-old boy named Harry Potter was enjoying himself tremendously. Like Albina he had no idea what awaited him. He enthusiastically pressed and turned the knobs on his Omnioculars trying to catch in detail what was happening out there in the swirl of the game.

Neither of them knew yet they had something very special in common.

sss

_Next: The five Carniolans find themselves in the middle of a riot during the attack on the Muggle owners of the campsite. _

_Please leave a review and tell me what you think!_


	3. Chapter 2: The Omnioculars

_Previously: A mysterious foreign young woman and her four friends came to the Quidditch World Cup in Britain._

sss

THE OMNIOCULARS

Albina and her four friends slowly made their way down the purple-carpeted stairs of the Quidditch Stadium, trailing behind the massive horde of spectators. They followed the lantern-lit path through the forest of tall dark spruce and pine trees in upright, soldier-like posture. It was clear that the forest had been planted there. Along the path and around the edges of a clearing there was occasionally a deciduous tree, its branches stretching all around like tentacles of a giant octopus. However, the forest was full of cheerful laughter and jolly songs, making the somewhat eerie shadows looking friendly.

The two pimpled brothers, Tilen and Luka Kos, were chatting excitedly about the outcome of the thrilling match and laughing cheerfully even though Bulgaria had lost. Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker, had put up a show so spectacular that few really cared about the final outcome. Occasionally the Kos brothers would raise their voices in a horrible tune trying to mimic the noisy self-proclaimed singers from the massive crowd spilling towards the campsite. They were right in the middle of a particularly harmonious melody when one of the leprechauns came zooming quite low over them and dropped his waving lantern on their heads, clearly trying to shut them up. Robert laughed so much that he started drooling like a bulldog under his big pug nose.

_"I've never heard of a Leprechaun being annoyed by humans! Usually it's the other way around!"_ he spurted mockingly. His bark-like laughter lasted all the way to the campsite.

They were by no means camping alone. Oh no, every inch of the ground was infested with temporary dwellings of wizards and witches from all over the globe. Their tent was right in the middle of it all, so getting back presented itself as quite a challenge. It wasn't easy bustling through the excited crowd. At least their bright blue tent stood out. Not by the colour, for it was fairly dark anyway, but by being the Muggliest of them all. It didn't even have an Expansion Charm like most of the others. However, it was big enough for Albina to have a private corner in her sleeping bag away from the guys.

They made a fire in front of the tent and seated themselves comfortably around it, still exchanging their impressions about the match. They were soon having an improvised open barbecue, each with a corncob or a sausage pinned at the end of a long wooden stick placed over the hot orange coals of their campfire. Tilen and Luka both managed to drop their sausages into the ashes while they were poking at each other's stick, leaving Albina to solve the problem.

_"Come on Albina, you know these spells best. I'm hungry. Get my sausage out of there!"_ Luka said pleadingly.

She sighed but rolled up her sleeves nevertheless and decided to try out her new wand for the first time.

"_Lentelevatio!_" she demanded and made a delicate gesture with her wand arm. The sausage slowly rose from the ashes until Luka snatched it from mid-air with a napkin. She did the same for Tilen and both times the wand performed nicely, though Mr Ollivander had warned her it was prone to backfire.

Afterwards the two brothers decided to stage an improvised sword battle for Albina's entertainment, which got slightly out of hand when they decided that Robert should play the dragon while Albina was the fair lady they were attempting to rescue. She told them to stop before they poked someone's eye out, but they ignored her. Silvan threatened to hex them if they didn't stop behaving so idiotically, but it didn't help much. They simply laughed stupidly until a loud bark and a curse from Robert's wand successfully wiped the grins off their pimpled faces. He forced them to clean up the mess they had left behind. Once they were done cleaning and sulking, Robert pulled a large bottle of red wine out of nowhere. The whole male part of the group had a share and the incident was soon forgotten.

They soon realized it was quite late. The campsite slowly calmed itself a bit as more and more people went to sleep, especially families with small children. They decided it was best to retreat to their tent for the night and try to get some sleep, too. Their car was parked in London and after they located it, they still had at least sixteen hours of constant driving across Europe to reach their homeland. The fact that their car was charmed to go faster while staying unnoticed didn't help much.

Of course they could choose a Portkey nearer to their home. There was one in the Italian Alps and one in the Black Forest for example, but that meant they'd have been unable to purchase a wand for Albina in Diagon Alley, because they would have arrived on the day the game started. All the magical trains to Britain were already fully booked, too, and they were mightily expensive anyway. So they had had a bit of a field trip. The Kos brothers had had the time of their lives, spending a fortune in almost all the magical shops in London. No one had ever been in an all-wizard street before. Back home their community only had one house, the Embankment No. 23/25, hidden from the eyes of the Muggle world behind narrow iron gates between two houses. In there was the only magical shop in the whole Carniola where you could buy everything from books, cauldrons, brooms, wands, owls, sweets, scales, toads, telescopes, potions and potion ingredients. Clearly there wasn't much to choose from.

They were in a middle of a discussion about their visit to Diagon Alley, saying how wonderful it would be if they had something like that at home, when suddenly a strange echoing bang shook their tent. Silvan, the leader of the group and professional Guardian of their community, immediately reacted. Pulling his wand out of his sleeve he stepped outside to check what was going on.

He calmed them down when he re-entered. _"It's nothing, just some bright sparks having too much to drink and flapping around with their wands."_

Then they heard a flush of juicy Italian words – Albina suspected at least some of it was coming from the Italian witch that she observed at the Stadium. Apparently there was an Italian group camping quite closely to the source of the bang and they weren't at all happy about it.

It was impossible to fall asleep when there was still so much raucous around them, but somehow with the aid of wine everyone except for Albina was soon snoring peacefully. She often could not sleep at night. She tried to empty her head, but it was sometimes easier said than done, especially when anxiety was your constant companion.

The campsite was still far from silent. There was a pair of men who were singing a jolly song about a Bludger, and a bunch of younger voices was laughing at a hilarious joke in the distance. Then hushed voices rose from among the tents somewhere on the left. They seemed to be arguing. Albina could hear hurried steps over the trodden-on grass passing the tent. The ground vibrated with each thud.

"Bloody Muggles," she heard someone growl angrily. Her eyes shot open. She knew that word – _Muggles_; it was what the British wizards and witches called non-magical people. Albina had a nasty feeling that the man was referring to their blue Muggle-looking tent.

The passing group of wizards was having a heated discussion. She could only catch a few sentences of their conversation.

"It's humiliating..."

"We shall not pu' up with 'is _farce_ anymo'e!" gushed a drunken voice loudly and Albina could tell without seeing that the man had probably raised his fists into the air at these words.

"I've had enough of this, I tell you..." growled another deep voice.

"It's time 'o show 'em thei' wigh'ful place..." Albina heard the drunken voice again as they marched away. She closed her eyes in relief and tried to relax.

She might have fallen asleep, but she couldn't really tell. All she knew was that suddenly a distant scream pierced the night, throwing her upwards. The singing had stopped. She could hear the ruffle of people coming out of their tents, gasping at what they saw and murmuring agitatedly, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps – people were running. Something was wrong. She had a distinctive feeling that it had something to do with the group of men she overheard earlier.

_"Get up! Silvan, Robert – get up, something is not right!"_ She urged them, jerking them with her feet. _"Come on, Luka, Tilen, up! Quickly!"_

They all sat up from their sleeping bags looking disoriented.

_"What is it?"_ asked Robert sleepily in his deep hoarse voice. The racket outside was getting louder. Piercing bangs emitted from wands shook the night. Scoffs and howls of sick laughter and drunken yells followed like a torrent.

_"I don't know. Something's wrong. Let's just grab a jacket and get outside – quickly! It sounds serious,"_ urged Albina, who had already pulled on shoes and jacket over her pyjamas, and grabbed her black handbag containing all her treasured possessions, swinging it securely over her shoulders. She hurried out of the tent, her male friends at her heels.

Not far from them a group of wizards closely crammed together was marching slowly between the tents. They couldn't see at first what was going on, but then a burst of strong green light blinded them momentarily. They shielded their sleepy eyes with their palms and when their pupils adjusted, they realized that the marcher's heads were hooded and their faces masked. Their wands were directed straight upward. Albina's eyes followed to where the masked wizards were aiming and widened in fright at what she saw.

Hanging high in the air four people were struggling in terror. Two of them were small children. Albina's stomach turned inside out at the sight. What was even more revolting was that instead of helping, more wizards joined the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating figures.

_"Why are they doing that?"_ stammered Luka, the youngest one of the four.

_"No idea. All I know is that those people up there are Muggles – I think they're the owners of this campsite,"_ said Robert gravely, narrowing his eyes.

_"Wands out!"_ Silvan warned them as the marching crowd grew larger and came closer to them. Tents crumpled under hundreds of feet.

_"Why? They wouldn't hurt us, would they?"_ asked Luka anxiously, his voice strangely hoarse.

_"Wouldn't count on it. We do look the most Muggle-like around here, and they are quite smashed. Plus, the Brits have somewhat of a history of disliking Muggles,"_ said Robert nonchalantly.

Luka and Tilen gulped and glanced nervously from their cotton pyjamas to their domelike tent. Robert was right; here no one could tell they weren't really Muggles. In their home country there was little distinction between the magical community and the ignorant world anyway. They all dressed like Muggles, ate like Muggles, drove cars like Muggles, worked like Muggles and lived like Muggles. The only difference was that they had a little secret. They would not have been able to survive otherwise; their community was simply too small.

_"They're coming this way! Move!"_ yelled Silvan, nervously pushing his heavy black-rimmed eyeglasses back on his nose. They all retreated except the Kos brothers, who turned back with intention to re-enter the tent and grab their stuff. They had nothing but their pyjamas and wands with them.

_"Watch out!"_ Albina shouted and pulled them by their sleeves as she noticed one of the marchers coming closer and pointing a wand towards their tent. Not a minute too late – with a bang their temporary dwelling was blasted away in pieces. The Kos brothers gasped in panic as the tents nearby caught fire. Judging by the screams that erupted from them there were still people inside.

Silvan and Robert launched into action immediately while Tilen and Luka stood still, frozen to the spot. Albina hurried along the marching crowd where more and more tents were burning. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her purse was dangling at her hips. She was acting automatically, not quite grasping what was taking place around her. Pointing her wand wildly here and there at the flames, she screamed, _"Flammae Frigidus!"_ It was a simple spell that made the flames harmlessly cold to the touch in case someone was still inside the burning tents. Sure enough a young couple emerged out of one of the tents on fire, cursing loudly in Scottish accent, putting the fire out with jets of water erupting from the tips of their wands.

"Are you alright?" Albina approached them, addressing them in English.

"Oh yes, we're fine," said the thin blonde, sending another jet of water at the tent. "Thankfully somebody rendered the flames harmless," she said, looking around for the saviour, until her pale blue eyes rested on Albina. "Was it you?"

"Yes," Albina nodded. Before the woman could thank her, she said hurriedly, "Excuse me," and dashed away, noticing the same wizard that blasted their tent raising his wand again. She ran forward in a resentful mood, pointed her wand at him and screamed, "Staticorpus!"

There was no jet of light, just a strong current of hot air that left a blurred trace behind itself. The wizard halted in his movement as if the air around him suddenly became so dense that it was nearly impossible to move through it. However, a different wizard came in his place, blasting the tent out of the way and looking for the culprit who rendered his collaborator immobile. Albina didn't notice this as the crowd suddenly screeched and hooted with glee. She looked up to see one of the four figures, a woman, flipped upside down, her nightdress falling over her head. She struggled desperately to cover herself up. Albina couldn't believe what she was seeing and thought she was going to be sick at any moment.

"Hey, you – with the black handbag – watch out!" yelled the thin Scottish blonde over the screeches to Albina, who could barely register what was happening around her. Two dazzling jets of purple light came swishing past her shoulders, rendering the wizard who was about to attack her harmless. This brought attention to more people from the crowd. The started looking for the source of the onslaught, but luckily the thin woman and her male companion pulled Albina behind a nearby tent and out of sight.

"It's best not ter go any nearer," the thin blonde warned her and motioned her to follow them. As Albina gathered her senses and rushed away, British Ministry wizards came sprinting from every direction towards the cause of the problem.

"Thanks," Albina said breathlessly to her two saviours as she caught up with them.

"Not a problem, just returnin' the favour," said the man with ginger hair, smiling at her with his distinctly crooked front teeth. "I'm Scott, Scott Kerr, and this is Kirsten."

"I'm Albina," she introduced herself. "My friends are over there." She motioned to the Kos brothers who were still gaping at the scene with open mouths. They had never seen anything alike before.

_"That's sick,"_ Luka muttered in his mother tongue as Albina and the Scots approached, watching the whole affair taking place sixty feet high in the air. _"That is really sick... What is wrong with these people?"_

Silvan and Robert came hurrying toward them at the same time with a small group of people they had rescued from the burning tents. They were clearly all Italian; they were having a fast conversation in Italian, shaken by the fiery incident.

_"Is everything alright?"_ asked Silvan worriedly, looking over from the Kos brothers to Albina and to the Scottish couple. They all nodded except for the Scots who didn't have a clue what Silvan just said. They listened to their conversation with interest, realizing that all their new acquaintances were foreigners.

_"Albina, you speak Italian, right? This bunch here was asking us something, but we didn't understand a word they were saying,"_ said Robert while catching his breath. _"And none of them understands much English or German either." _

"Er..." said Albina, clearing her throat. "Mi scuzi... Tutto bene? C'è qualcuno che sta male?" she said, asking them if they were alright.

"Parla italiano!" exclaimed a black haired witch that Albina suddenly recognized from the stadium. The teenage son she had been scolding then for forgetting the Omnioculars stood right behind her, looking around with wild eyes like a scared puppy.

The Italians asked her if she knew what was going on. She told them she didn't. Then all six of them started cursing whoever set their tents on fire, using loud juicy words, making wide gestures with their arms, and looking resentfully towards the crowd that was getting bigger than ever. The Ministry wizards were trying to reach the centre where the family of four was floating high up in the air, but it was far too crowded, making it impossible to reach the masked wizards in the middle.

"Excuse me," said Scott to Albina, interrupting the chatter with the Italians. "I think we should go ter the woods, I reckon it'd be safer there. Plenty of space there ter take cover until this gets sorted," he advised.

''Do you think we should help somehow?'' Albina asked him, motioning towards the chaos moving slowly away from them.

''No, our Ministry'll take care of it. Let's just get outta here, it's already terribly crowded," Scott told them and marched towards the forest with Kirsten.

"Andiamo verso il bosco," Albina said to the puzzled-looking Italians, explaining what she said with gestures as well. She wasn't sure she had told them right that they should go towards the forest.

_"I think we should try to help nevertheless,"_ she said, turning to Silvan and Robert as the Italians marched behind Scott and Kirsten, avoiding the noisy crowd and heading towards the nearest edge of the dark wood.

_"No, I think that man was right, we should follow them,"_ Silvan disagreed.

_"But – what if they drop them? Just look at the children up there, they must be terrified!"_ Albina objected.

_"They will be fine. Their officials know how to deal with it. Come on, Novak will kill us if something happened to you."_

_"But – I know some good Levitation Charms – we all do!"_

_"It is too high and too dangerous. They might hurt them when they see us trying to save them, not to mention what they might do to us."_

_"Then we could at least—"_

_"Robert, please talk sense to this girl – or better, just Apparate to the forest with her,"_ said Silvan agitatedly.

_"No, I want to—"_

_"Albina, just GO!"_ Robert bellowed with authority.

_"Fine,"_ Albina said stubbornly and followed them reluctantly with a tightened jaw.

_"Stick together!"_ Silvan ordered them as they reached the tall dark trees. The lanterns had been extinguished and the feeble light from the campsite was making the shadows dance eerily over the ferny undergrowth. The forest was full of anxious voices. They could hear children crying and panicked conversations.

Suddenly there was a bang like a cannon blast originating from the campsite, accompanied by a flash of green light that lit the forest for a moment. They started at the sudden sound of another blast louder than anything they heard before from the other side of the trees. Some people screamed in fright.

_"Are you sure this was a good idea?"_ Albina grumbled tensely, tightening the grip around her new wand.

_"Let's go deeper,"_ Robert suggested nervously as yet another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

They proceeded in relative silence. Every now and then the Kos brothers would moan and hiss in pain for they were wearing nothing but thin socks that offered little protection against uneven rocky surface of the forest floor.

It was difficult to see between the trees, so they subconsciously headed towards a patch of silvery light shining ahead. They soon found out that it was coming from three Veela that were standing in a clearing, surrounded by a group of young wizards. The Kos brothers eagerly advanced towards them, being pulled back by Robert and Silvan, who were much more experienced when it came to dealing with Veela than the two pimpled teenagers.

_"Move on,"_ Robert growled and they pulled them away into darkness once more.

_"Hide up amongst the trees,"_ Silvan ordered them, suddenly pulling them off the path.

The Kos brothers found a nice big pine tree and climbed on it like monkeys. It was pitch black, so nobody saw their acrobatic feat. Because of the lack of light, they got entangled a few times with the tree branches. Albina could hear them curse loudly.

_"Keep it down,"_ Robert snarled as he occupied the space under their tree, keeping guard.

_"You too."_ Silvan motioned to Albina.

_"I'm not escaping up a tree—"_ she tried to protest.

_"Oh yes you are. It's the safest place around here. No one will expect you to be so high up there. Use one of those Levitation Charms of yours. You're supposed to be an expert in them,"_ he said, pushing her forward. _"You have no idea what some of these people are capable of. I'm not risking anyone mistaking us for Muggles or Muggle-lovers. Go find a suitable tree. I'll go check what's going on at the campsite since I'm the only one wearing wizard clothing,"_ said Silvan.

_"But—"_

_"No buts!"_ he said firmly, leaving no space to argue.

Albina sighed in surrender and found her own tree a little way ahead. It was a nice sturdy pine tree with a few strong, curved branches. With the help of a Levitation Charm she was soon safely seated on one of those branches, leaning on the pitchy trunk for support some thirty feet in the air.

_"I'll come back when it's safe. Until then stay up there!"_ he ordered her.

Fumingly she agreed. Only then would Silvan leave her. She could hear him converse with Robert for a while, but she could only make out a few words; they were too far away. She heaved a sigh, feeling positively stupid to be hiding up on a tree like a cat chased by a dog. She swung her purse into her lap with an angry gesture, suddenly remembering that she had her Omnioculars in it this whole time. Maybe she could see what was happening around her. The treetops weren't that dense here. Before she could put them to her eyes, the silence was split by a shout that sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Something vast and sparkling green flew up over the treetops and into the sky right in front of Albina's stunned grey eyes. At first she thought somebody must have charmed this light body simply to illuminate the forest. Then she realized that it was a colossal skull with a serpent sticking out from its mouth like a tongue. It reminded her of one of those grotesque skulls on shirts that Robert, being a metal-head, was so fond of.

Suddenly terrified screams erupted all around her. Albina soon comprehended the skull wasn't a good sign. She raised Omnioculars to see what was happening below her. Twisting the knob that boosted the light, she noticed three small figures standing not far from where the gruesome greenish skull came into existence. Were they the ones who conjured it? It seemed they were only teenagers. Suddenly the forest floor beneath her exploded with whip-like cracks as a group of wizards and witches Apparated around them. About twenty voices suddenly roared the same spell and jets of red light illuminated the scene, blinding Albina for a moment, before she furiously adjusted the light booster back to normal and zoomed in on the scene, leaning slightly to her right to avoid a tree branch obscuring the view. The three teenagers were on the ground and suddenly the one in the middle raised his head slightly, the black hair on his forehead swept away by the powerful wind created by the Stunners. Albina froze horror-struck.

_"That's not possible,"_ she whispered. She fumbled with the Omnioculars, her hands slightly trembling. Putting it back to her eyes, she was still murmuring under her breath, _"It's not possible, it just can't be..."_

She pressed the replay button and twiddled the speed dial on the right side of the Omnioculars. The image replayed itself more slowly, the spells flying lazily through air. It slowly zoomed to the boy on the forest floor. He lifted his head up, his hair rippling in the wind caused by the powerful spells. Albina held her breath.

_"No. It can't be,"_ she said to herself, swaying dangerously on the high branch from the sudden dizziness that swept over her forehead. She made the Omnioculars replay it again and again and again. The image stayed the same no matter what. She could see it clearly; there was no doubt. Illuminated by the spells, there, on the boy's forehead, was a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt.

sss

_Next: Months later Albina returns to Britain to reveal an important piece of information to a certain person. _

_Please leave a comment or just say hello. Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 3: Harry Potter

_Previously: Albina witnessed the creation of the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup and saw Harry Potter's scar, which shook her greatly._

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HARRY POTTER

"Amos, think who you're talking to!" Albina heard someone say very angrily from below.

"Is _Harry Potter _likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

She could barely register what was going on down underneath her. It was ringing in her ears. The name... She heard the name of the boy. _Harry Potter_... Why was it so strangely familiar? How did he get the scar? That scar... She knew perfectly well what it meant. Who had given it to the boy?

Her hands were shaking out of control and her breathing was uneven. And there was this annoying hot pain in her left shoulder again, like someone had pressed a red-hot poker right above her heart. She could feel it when she was particularly upset, that was why she spent so much time focusing on her surroundings. When you thought of everything else around, you could soon forget about yourself.

A deep rough voice suddenly bellowed, "You – up there!"

With confusion like being woken from a weird dream she realized that three wizards who had Apparated to the scene earlier were looking up toward her. She was clearly visible under the feeble light the green skull was casting.

"We're Ministry officials. Please come down for inspection," demanded a tall wizard with a goatee.

She hesitated for she was still in disarray and was struggling to clear her mind.

"Come down here. As soon as we inspect you, you may leave if you prove innocent," said the wizard firmly again.

"Maybe she doesn't understand English," suggested his companion, a burly bald wizard.

"I understand," she said quietly, putting an unreadable expression on her face. "I'm coming. Just a minute."

She hung the Omnioculars safely around her neck and took a breath-taking drop, landing much too slow and much too soft for that height. However, the wizards were not impressed. They lifted their wands threateningly, regarding her suspiciously. Down on the forest floor it was quite dark despite the green light that the skull was casting over the tall pine and spruce trees, so she had a hard time making out the distinctive features of their unsmiling faces. Albina handed them her two wands for inspection, which increased their suspicion.

"Why are you carrying two wands?" the tall wizard demanded.

"I bought that one just two days ago in London." She pointed at the smaller piece of wood.

"And this one?"

"Mine too. Handed down – didn't work properly," she explained curtly. They were still glaring at her with doubt.

"Did you conjure the Dark Mark?"

"I'm assuming the Dark Mark is that green skull on the sky." She gestured towards it.

"Don't act stupid. Everybody knows it. Answer the question," hissed the tall wizard. He looked quite threatening with a stern expression on his long unsymmetrical face. At this point Albina knew she was in serious trouble.

"I – I didn't make the Dark Mark. I saw it for the first time," she said firmly, her voice trembling slightly. Her shoulder started to prickle uncomfortably again.

"Where are you from? You don't sound British."

She explained them in detail who and where she was from.

"I've never heard of a place called Carniola," said the tall wizard sceptically, eyeing her with distrust.

"I have," declared the third wizard. "They border Austria and Italy and were a part of Yugoslavia until about six years ago."

He was standing farthest from Albina, so she couldn't see him properly, though she noticed his elegant and expensive garment. His voice sounded a bit too pleasant and amiable for her ears.

"Actually, it was four years ago," she corrected him.

"Of course. And if you're really from there, naturally you would also know who your leader is."

"Perun Novak, the head— er... What's the word... chief?"

"I believe the proper term that corresponds with your language and appropriately describes his role in your... _political_ system, would be 'elder'," he explained in his all-too-likeable tone.

There were more and more questions but she managed to explain that she was up on the tree for safety reasons, not because she tried to escape after conjuring the Dark Mark. Besides, why would she stay so close to the scene of the crime? She'd want to get away as soon as possible, Disapparating immediately after the deed, wouldn't she? She still had the narrow box that came with her new wand, which confirmed her story. Then she displayed them the footage from the Omnioculars, which proved she was on the tree just moments after the Dark Mark was conjured. Which meant it was unlikely that she was the one who produced it. They inspected her wands and at long last they decided to let her go; for, they observantly concluded it was improbable that a young foreign woman, who had never set foot to the British Isles before, would even know how to conjure the Mark in the first place.

The tall wizard returned her both wands with a polite smile, twisting his asymmetrical face in an even more lopsided expression. "Here you are. I apologise for the inconvenience. I'm sure you understand it was for safety reasons."

"No problem. Er... wait, can I ask you something?" she said hurriedly to the three Ministry wizards before they turned to walk away and Disapparate. "Who is Harry Potter?"

They all gave her an incredulous look as if she had just sprouted a head out of her shoulder.

_"Who is Harry Potter?"_ the tall wizard who had interrogated her repeated dumbstruck.

"You don't know who Harry Potter is?" gasped the short bald wizard unbelievingly.

The third wizard just narrowed his eyes at her. She shook her head.

"She doesn't know who Harry Potter is!" the tall wizard exclaimed. "I don't believe it! Everybody in the world knows who he is!"

"Well, I don't," she said evenly.

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

"Come on, you must have heard of him! The-Boy-Who-Lived?" the tall wizard prompted her.

"No, I haven't," she said, feeling a bit irritated.

"Get outta here! Now you're gonna tell us you don't know who He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is!" he exclaimed.

"Er... who?"

"I don't believe it!" he gasped. "In what godforsaken place have you been living all this time? You ARE a witch, aren't you?"

"Of course she is, Gareth! We've seen her descend from the tree. A fine piece of a Levitation Charm, if I'm not mistaken," said the burly wizard.

"I'm sure educating foreigners about our recent history is most rewarding, but we have _other_ things to take care of," the third wizard in spruce robes said impatiently, checking a small silver pocket watch.

"Right. Yes, we should be off then," said Gareth, still waving his head in disbelief and murmuring under his breath.

They turned without saying goodbye and were gone as the darkness swallowed them.

A rustling sound made Albina jump. It was only Robert, coming to check what was going on near the tree that Albina was supposed to be on.

_"What happened? Are you alright? I thought I heard you talking to someone."_

_"Yes, I'm fine,"_ she retorted, neglecting to mention the three Ministry wizards who paid her a visit.

_"Why aren't you up on the tree?"_

_"In case you haven't noticed, there's a green neon sign hanging just above our heads,"_ she said irritably.

_"All the more reason to be up there in a safe place,"_ he grunted. _"I'm going back to Tilen and Luka. The two monkeys are positively frightened to see the Dark Mark with their very eyes. I trust that – unlike them – you can take care of yourself,"_ he said grouchily and was off.

_Great_, Albina thought. Even Tilen and Luka, who were quite a few years younger than herself, apparently knew what was going on. How come she had never even heard of the Dark Mark or Harry Potter? Both were somehow connected, she was in no doubt about it. Why else would that wizard be so sure that Harry Potter was most unlikely to conjure the Mark? Somewhere deep down she had that familiar gut feeling again, like she'd heard the name before. She knew her ears had never heard it before, but there was a part in her that had known it, had heard it in the past. She knew that feeling well; it was like an instinct. She could often pick up her wand and perform a spell for which she was sure she had never done it before, only to have an odd feeling of déjà-vu emerge afterwards. She had a hunch about the reason behind it – well, not a hunch. She couldn't blind herself, because she knew what the source of it all was.

So how come she never heard of Harry Potter if he was supposed to be so famous? And what was he famous for? He was only a teenage boy. What could he possibly have done? Scare the life out of a dark wizard with his teddy bear?

_Well, it was only recently that she became acquainted with this whole new world_, she reminded herself. Besides, it's not like they paid much attention to the British affairs at her homeland anyway. They had their own problems, especially with the war going on in the Balkans, both on Muggle and Wizarding side.

It was a mess down there; she could tell, though she was never allowed to attend the missions the Guardians organized. She was only allowed – upon much insistence and due to her ancestry – to be a part of the supply team whose work was highly confidential yet extremely safe.

A rustle of dry leaves nearby made her jump again.

"Oh, it's you. Look Scott, what a coincidence, it's... What's your name again? Almira?"

"Albina."

"Yes, Albina."

Scott and Kirsten seemed anxious. Their wands were drawn and they didn't seem to want to stay near the Dark Mark. They headed away, past Albina and into the darkness.

"Hey, wait," said Albina, hurrying after them, but they didn't stop.

"Could you tell me... er... more about Harry Potter and... ah... The-One-That-Is-Not-Named?"

"More?" Scott raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. I don't know much... I think I saw Harry Potter. Somebody called him that. He has a scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt."

The pair stopped dead in their tracks, turning around to face her.

"You saw Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?"

"I don't know. Are there more than one?"

Scott and Kirsten burst into a short laughter.

"More than one... That's a good one," giggled Kirsten.

"Please, could you tell me everything you know about him? I... er... want to know first-hand about him. You know... there are all sorts of rumours in our country," said Albina tactically.

"Sorry to disappoint ya, but there are all sorts of rumours here as well. 'Cause nobody knows what really happened the night You-Know-Who disappeared," said Kirsten mysteriously.

"Please, I'd really like to know more," she said almost pleadingly.

"Well, alright," said Scott, glancing nervously at the green skull on the sky. Nevertheless, he told her about the Boy-Who-Lived and You-Know-Who, though he never explained who Albina was supposed to know about. He seemed most reluctant to say his name.

"What about the scar? How did he get it?" she enquired after Scott finished.

"From the curse, I guess. Instead of killing him off, he only got the scar. That's what I've read in— Oh, what was that book? _The Great Events of the Twentieth Century_ or something..."

"And You-Know-Who? Could you tell me more about him?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm sure you've heard of _him_. That's his sign up there," said Kirsten, pointing at the skull.

"The Dark Mark."

"Yes," Scott confirmed grimly.

Their story verified Albina's suspicions that the boy, You-Know-Who and the Dark Mark were all connected. It made perfect sense that Harry Potter would be pretty much the last person on Earth to conjure it.

"Why is everyone so afraid of it?" she said, glancing at the green skull etched in the dark sky.

"'Cause we haven't seen it since Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. He and his followers made it every time they killed someone. Those were dark times, you couldn't trust anyone. This," Scott said pointing at the sky, "could mean that he is back," he explained gravely.

"It's not possible, Scott. You-Know-Who's dead."

"How can you know that? Body was never found," he argued.

Their conversation was broken by Robert and Silvan calling Albina's name.

_"I'm here, I'm alright,"_ she yelled back. "I'm... er... My friends are calling me," she explained to the Scots, who didn't understand her language.

"Alright. Well, we best be goin' on our way," Scott said and the couple soon disappeared into darkness again.

Silvan scolded her like a little child as he came into view a while later. _"I thought I told you to stay on the tree. What are you doing down here?"_

He told her things had been finally taken care off at the campsite, so it was safe to return. They reunited with Robert and the Kos brothers and trudged back to investigate the remains of their tent.

Silvan started ransacking the fragments of their temporary dwelling as soon as they reached the burnt out ruins of the campsite. Everything was pretty much gone, though luckily the backpacks with their clothes were only torn a bit here and there, their content still half intact. Then Silvan pulled Robert's Walkman out of the debris. It most definitely wasn't operational any more. Robert let out a grunt as if the sight alone pained him. He tried to repair it with his wand, but it only emitted a few cackling sounds as the charm hit it. Apparently parts of the Walkman were melted beyond repair.

"Well, at least one good thing came out of it all," declared Luka, grinning from ear to ear. "No more heavy metal."

The little problem of where to spend the rest of their night was solved momentarily by the Italians who found their way from the forest and managed to sufficiently repair the burnt out holes in their vast tents. They were a pleasant bunch, an extended family of brothers and sisters directly from Venice. Finding out that they actually lived quite close by, at least by magical standards, they told Albina they were all most welcome to come visit them during vacations or if they happened to find themselves in the neighbourhood.

sss

Next day, on their way back home, Robert was sulking in the front seat of their silver car. He was left without his precious Walkman. In addition his favourite heavy metal tape was destroyed. However, all his compatriots were perfectly happy with this arrangement, for their car finally didn't sound like a tiny sawmill was placed somewhere underneath their seats. Actually, it was far too quiet, for Albina did not comment about the passing landscape and towns like she did before. She was staring out of the window, looking at the blurred yellow fields they were passing without interest. She didn't listen when Luka and Tilen declared they were eternally grateful to her for saving them from the terrible fate that occurred to their tent. Nor did she react when Robert and Silvan kept glancing worriedly at her from the front seats. All she could think of was Harry Potter and his scar.

They had to spend the night in Germany in one of the lodgings off the highway. It was Wednesday when they finally arrived back home. By that time Albina had an idea tightly lodged in her mind and she was firmly resolved to do what she set her mind to.

sss

It was exactly three months after she was last standing here. She was quite pleased with herself. She did it all on her own. She was a bit frightened, a bit anxious, and a bit nervous to be all alone in a foreign country.

Nobody knew the real reason for her departure, not even her family. She claimed she needed a long break away from it all, somewhere where no one knew her. Surely they would understand that, after all that had happened?

Stage two of her mission was to contact the right person. She knew she couldn't go directly to Harry Potter. No, the matter was too delicate. He was only a fourteen years old boy. His family wasn't an option either, because they were not magical. There was nothing they could do about it.

Going straight to their Ministry of Magic was a bad idea, too. It would attract too much unwanted attention and possibly land her in trouble. The matter should be kept quiet. No one but the right person must know. She already had a pretty good idea who that person was – a wizard named Albus Dumbledore. He was well known in Carniola for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945. He was an important and respected figure in the wizarding world and was currently the head of the International Confederation of Wizards. Her mentor Perun Novak told her that Albus Dumbledore also fought against You-Know-Who.

She knew she had to be careful who to tell her secret, though. If she came across the wrong people, she'd be in serious trouble. Death Eaters – another stupid name; who'd ever want to eat death anyway? It sounded like a name appropriate for one of those heavy metal bands Robert listened to. Apparently not all of those Voldemort's followers were imprisoned. It was fairly easy to claim to have been under the Imperius Curse. She shuddered at the thought of all the possibilities that particular curse offered. Well, to be fair, she shuddered at anything connected to Mind Magic. The idea that someone could enter your mind and see the most personal things... It sent a chilly feeling down her spine. She was a very private person.

She had thought it through in every detail in those long nights when she couldn't fall asleep. As far as she knew it, she was the only one who was aware of what that scar meant. She read every available book in the library, skimmed through all the newspapers, yet there was nothing in there. She asked her mentor Novak, thinking he'd be the first person to know anything about it. Yet he told her nothing she hadn't already known, except that You-Know-Who also went by the name Lord Voldemort.

She needed to tell the truth to someone, someone who fought against Voldemort, someone who wanted to bring him down; perhaps someone like Albus Dumbledore. She was sure that Old Vold wasn't dead as most people believed it. Oh yes, she was certain about that, though she did not know how or why he did it. It just didn't make sense.

Everybody said that Voldemort wanted to kill the boy. Then why did he give him the scar? And why did the Killing Curse rebound? Could it be possible that you couldn't kill the person to whom you gave the scar? It just didn't add up – but that didn't matter. What mattered was that there was a dark wizard on the loose, unable to be killed unless something was done about it. And she was the only one who knew the truth. When she realised this, her life suddenly got purpose again. All the horrible things that had happened... Suddenly everything had meaning.

Maybe all those things happened for a reason. If he hadn't died instead of her, she wouldn't have become like this. If she hadn't gone to The Quidditch World Cup, she would have never seen Harry Potter and his scar with her very eyes. That simply could not have been a coincidence. Everything was connected, that's how she saw it.

She wanted to fight Dark Magic in whatever way she could. She knew that she would probably never be good enough with magic to become a Guardian, but coming here was the next best thing. There was something else that pushed her to come to Britain as well. This Voldemort – he hated non-magical people. If there was something that could make her furious, it was that, because—

"Are you coming through or what?" An annoyed looking old witch in a pointed brown hat awaked her from her preoccupation. The witch tapped a brick in the wall that Albina was gazing at unknowingly, immersed in her deep thoughts. Now Albina was staring through a brick archway down the winding cobbled street unlike any other in London.

She spent the day familiarizing herself with her new environment. Late in the afternoon she headed back to the Leaky Cauldron where she currently stayed at. The pub was empty except for the landlord and two old warlocks who were immersed in a conversation, chewing every word in a funny accent. She approached the counter behind which the aged bartender was arranging the glasses and ordered a drink.

"Can I ask you something?" Albina said when he placed a foaming tankard of Butterbeer in front of her. She decided that it was time to get some information.

"Yes, of course, ask away," he said, giving her a toothless smile.

"I'm not from around here. I'm a foreigner, so I was wondering... Could you tell me what's been going on here lately? I've been at the Quidditch World Cup this summer and I've seen the Dark Mark. Now I'm back here. I intend to live here for a while, you see. So I just wanted to know what that was all about."

"Oh, I don't think there's anything you should be worried about. The war was over thirteen years ago and except for that particular incident, which was just some drunks crossing the limit of good taste, I don't think there will be any more serious trouble," he assured her in a muffled voice caused by the lack of teeth in his mouth.

"So you don't think You-Know-Who had anything to do with it?"

"He's gone," said the bartender simply. "But his followers aren't. I think that's all there is to it."

Albina pondered what he said in silence.

"Could you tell me more about the war?" she asked after a while. "I imagine you must know a lot about it, being the owner of this pub – you must be very well informed." The pub served as an entrance to the magical world of Diagon Alley, so she assumed the place was some sort of a concourse of all British witches and wizards.

The bartender, Tom Abbott was his name as she found out during the conversation, was more than glad to inform her about the details, more so to educate a foreigner about his homeland. Then he came to the part she was most interested in. She didn't even have to ask him directly.

"Albus Dumbledore is the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. And as long as he's around, we've got nothing to worry." His aged blue eyes glowed with certainty as he told her that.

According to Tom Abbot, Albus Dumbledore had led a secret organisation called the Order of the Phoenix during the war, which had fought against Death Eaters.

Now Albina knew she should most definitely contact Albus Dumbledore. She planned on writing him a letter requesting a meeting. First thing first, she needed more money to buy an owl. She had enough to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of weeks, but the room was quite expensive, so it would be a good idea to get a job somewhere in Diagon Alley. Fumbling with her wallet, she scraped out a few pounds to pay for the drink she ordered. Then she remembered she wasn't in some Muggle pub down the street; she needed Galleons, not pounds. As it turned out, she had to pay for a week's stay in advance, so she had no more money in wizard currency.

"Er... Sorry, I have to go to the bank to change these," she apologized to the landlord. He nodded in understanding and smiled toothlessly.

"Gringotts is just down the alley," he told her.

She knew that already, she'd been there first when she needed money to purchase her new wand three months ago and then shortly after she arrived to Britain for the second time. Apparently she should have changed all her pounds into Galleons right away.

"I'll be back momentarily," she told him and headed towards the white building.

She shuddered at the sight of the goblin guards at the entrance. These human-like creatures gave her the creeps. She wasn't used to them. There were no goblins back at her homeland, just a lot of hags and quite a number of Veela. And they could both give her the creeps as well. She only ever saw Veela in her country and despite one of her ancestors being a Veela, she still felt a bit uncomfortable by the fact that there were other intelligent species equal to humans – or at least capable of human speech.

The goblin at the counter grumpily changed her Muggle money into a few golden, silver and bronze coins. As she was fumbling with her black handbag something fell out of it.

"Miss, you dropped something," the goblin informed her dryly.

"Yes, I know, thank you," she said and bend down to pick up the small piece of paper. It was a business card. She had completely forgotten about it. Apparently it was resting in the depths of her purse ever since she got it at the Quidditch Stadium. It said:

_**Kitcher & Owen**_

_Modern Muggle applications for _

_contemporary magical households._

_73 Diagon Alley, London_

An idea dropped into her head. She might get a job this very day. At least it was worth trying. After all, she knew everything about Muggles.

sss

_Next: Albina meets the Hogwarts' Potions Master and an Unbreakable Vow is bound._

_Author's note: Part of the first lines of this chapter was written by J K Rowling (4__th__ book, Chapter The Dark Mark). I only borrowed it and changed it a bit so that my story complies with the original._

_Thanks for taking the time to read this! Please review. I love hearing from you._


	5. Chapter 4: The Most Trusted Man

_Previously: Albina found out about Harry Potter and returned to Britain three months after the Quidditch World cup with a mission she set for herself._

sss

THE MOST TRUSTED MAN

As Albina re-entered the Leaky Cauldron, she wore a satisfied grin and her grey eyes were sparkling again after a long time. She had a job now, and she would be starting it in the next two days. It was the first time she had a proper job; she had been a student until recently. Everything seemed to fall into its place.

The bartender seemed to have vanished when she entered, so she waited by the bar to pay what she owed him. When he reappeared he was carrying a stack of newspapers and to Albina's surprise he deposited it right in front of her.

"Here you are dear; I thought you might like to have a look at these to see what's been going on in Britain lately." He smiled fondly at her.

"Er, what are those?"

"Newspapers obviously. The ones I haven't thrown into the fire yet or used them in my owl's cage."

"Daily Prophet," she read aloud from the stack.

"Yes. Our finest newspaper. I should warn you though; you should always check who wrote the article. If you see the name Rita Skeeter, don't think much of it. Her last article about Dumbledore was not only lacking good taste, it was also extremely rude," he said, shaking his bold head in disapproval. "Calling him an obsolete dingbat!" he raised his voice in indignation. "Oh, and I can give you today's issue as well. I've already finished it," he said and went to retrieve it.

As she skimmed through the last newspaper Mr Abbot brought, her eyes almost fell out of its sockets. The name Harry Potter stuck out of the text as if it was flashing furiously in colourful letters. She read the article carefully.

_FIRST TASK OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will tomorrow, on the 25__th__ November, host the first event of the legendary Triwizard Tournament, an international competition organized by the three largest schools of witchcraft and wizardry in Europe; our Hogwarts, French Beauxbatons and the notorious Durmstrang. The first out of three tasks will start at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. _

_This event is historic not only because it has been revived after more than a century, but also because Hogwarts has never before had two champions. The famous Harry Potter has been chosen as the fourth competitor under unexplained circumstances..._

She finished the article soon but she kept staring at it in disbelief. She did not know what to think of it. Then an idea was formed in her head that made her forget all about the strange fact of the two Hogwarts Champions.

Harry Potter would be competing. That meant she could see him. Plus, she would see Albus Dumbledore as well. According to the article, he was one of the judges. There was only one problem. She didn't know where this event was taking place.

"Excuse me, Mr Abbott," she addressed the bald bartender.

"Please, call me Tom, everyone does," he told her.

"Alright, Tom. I've been reading about the Triwizard Tournament, and it sounds interesting. I'd really like to see it. How do I get to this school – Hogwatts?"

"It's Hogwarts," he corrected her kindly, "and I'd advise you to go to Hogsmeade first."

"Hogs... what?"

"Hogsmeade," he repeated.

"Hogsmeat?" She raised her eyebrows, looking at him with confusion, so he searched for a quill and scratched the name on the top of the newspaper and explained it was an all-wizard village, the largest one in Britain.

"Oh. So how do I get there?" she asked, tapping the scribbled name of the place with her index finger.

He smiled toothlessly. "Anyway you like. Apparating would be the quickest way."

"No, I mean, where is it?"

"Oh. It's in Scotland, in the Highlands, right next to Hogwarts."

That still didn't exactly explain a lot to her.

"Alright, so if I wanted to fly there, where exactly should I go?"

"My goodness, why would you want to fly all the way up there?" he exclaimed.

"Er... I'm not really good at Apparating..." she mumbled, sounding a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I understand," he said kindly. "Tell you what, you can use the Floo. There's a fireplace at the back."

"The Flow?" She raised her brows in bewilderment again.

"No no, not the _flow_, the _Floo_ Network. You know, travelling through fireplaces," he explained patiently.

"Oh, that! I completely forgot you people use that!" She laughed light-heartedly. "We don't even have fireplaces, much less any Floo Network," she explained.

"You don't?"

Tom was really surprised by that, but Albina explained that her country was so small anyway; one could fly from one end to another in less than an hour.

"One hour!" he exclaimed. "What a waste of time! You can Floo or Apparate hundreds of miles in just a couple of seconds!"

Tom told her to come early in the morning, when he'd set her off to Hogsmeade via Floo. Albina paid him what she owed him for the Butterbeer and grabbed the newspapers he had so kindly given to her. She ascended the squeaky wooden staircase until she reached the door with the number 33 on it. She entered the cosy room and crossed over to the desk to put down the stack of papers, when an unknown voice caught her of guard.

"You know, you really should do someth—"

"AAAAARH!" screamed Albina, dropping the stack on the floor, and reaching for the wand poking out of her sleeve. Looking around wildly, expecting to find an intruder, Albina heard the unknown voice speak again.

"What a charming performance," the voice said. "As I was saying—"

"Where are you?" Albina demanded, backing against the wall in fright.

"On the wall obviously, right behind you," the voice retorted smartly. Albina turned around and caught sight of her own reflection with ruffled mane-like hair, starring wide-eyed back at her. Then it hit her. It was a talking mirror! She felt so silly; she thought she had passed the stage where magical objects managed to scare her.

"Now, if I may finish my sentence, I think you really should do something about those hideous dark circles under your lovely eyes."

Albina didn't know whether to feel offended or flattered; probably both. Then she heard footsteps in the hall and an elderly witch paused by the doorway. She was the same one that Albina had met earlier that day when she was standing in the backyard, staring at the brick wall that was hiding the entrance to the magical world of Diagon Alley.

"I heard you screaming. Are you alright, dear?" the witch inquired kindly.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. It was just the mirror."

The witch raised her grey eyebrows, forming a funny wrinkled shape on her forehead.

"It surprised me when it spoke. I thought someone was in my room," Albina explained.

The witch narrowed her eyes. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm from Trieste, actually," said Albina. "But I'm part British."

"You're Muggle-born, aren't you?" said the witch, measuring her from head to toe, from Albina's black ankle boots to her warm, yet unmistakeably Muggle coat, which had big plastic buttons.

"Er... what?"

"Muggle-born. Your parents were Muggles, weren't they? You're wearing Muggle clothes," said the witch as she pointed at her with her long withered finger.

Albina did not like the sound of the older witch's voice. She did not like it at all. She sounded like she was biting into a lemon each time a word started with _Muggle_.

The woman turned around on her heels without saying goodbye and left with heavy steps. Albina stared at the door in confusion. What was that all about? How dare she comment about her clothes when the witch was still wearing that silly brown pointed hat? To Albina the sight looked most unnatural, like the woman was wearing a costume for Shrovetide Carnival. Well, she kind of had the feeling there was a carnival going on in the Diagon Alley, to be honest, with all that cloaks and pointed hats. She would never put a hat like that on, not unless it was Shrove Tuesday! Or Halloween; that was when these people wore costumes, so that could also be acceptable.

She made an angry gesture with her wand and the door slammed shut. Then she bent down to pick up the newspapers that were scattered all over the floor. Once more something caught her eye. It was a huge picture of Harry Potter on the front page.

"_Wow, I guess he really is famous_," she murmured under her breath and unfolded the paper to read the whole article.

"_Stop winking, you're distracting me while I'm trying to read_," she growled at the moving photo of the teenager. Honestly, what was the point of moving photos anyway? It destroyed the whole concept of photos, did it not?

The article was extremely long. It continued on several pages and it also sounded extremely farfetched. _He still cries at night?_ What teenager would admit to crying like a little boy?

When she checked who wrote it everything became quite clear. Tom had told her this Rita Skeeter wasn't a very trustworthy type.

She set the paper with the silly article down and sat behind the desk. It was time for some serious work. She took out her fountain pen, a piece of paper and began composing the most important letter in her life. She soon realized it will take her ages to complete it. There was the matter of not knowing what to write in the letter so she wouldn't give too much away, yet it would still be enough to guarantee her a meeting with a man as important as Albus Dumbledore.

The next day she was acquainted for the first time with the wonders of Floo Travel.

"Just grab a handful of the Floo Powder, toss it into the flames, step in and say clearly where you want to go. Then keep the elbows tightly to yourself and exit at the right fireplace. Simple as that. Go on. Yes, just toss it in."

"Wow," said Albina, stepping back from the roaring green flames the Floo Powder produced.

"Nothing to worry about. The flames are harmless," Tom assured her.

"So now I just go in?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes, and as soon as you do, speak loud and clear and with determination. Just say Hogsmeade and you'll probably end up at the Three Broomsticks or the Owl Post Office."

"Alright," she said, gathering her courage and holding her breath. She stepped into the tickling flames. Everything seemed to be in order until she yelled and coughed at the same time, "Hogs-khm-eade!"

She started spinning incredibly fast, fireplaces flicking in front of her eyes like windows of a fast passing train. Was it the world or her head that was spinning? She felt sick, she wanted it to stop, it was worse than a roundabout, worse than a rollercoaster. Bile rose up her throat and the moment she thought she was going to be sick, she was spilled out into a stinky and grubby looking pub. She was still sprawled on the filthy floor when she felt the ground tremble by heavy fast-approaching steps.

"Who are you?" demanded an unfriendly voice. She raised her head only to meet a wand pointed at her by a cranky old bearded man of twinkling blue eyes.

"Um... Is this Hogsmeade?" she posed the question in a somewhat shaky voice and scrambled to her feet.

"It certainly is. Now, who are you?"

"Just... visitor. I guess I didn't pronounce it accurately enough. I was told I was most likely to end up at the Three Broomsticks or the Owl Post Office. I guess I ended up in neither of them. Where exactly am I?" she asked, trying to sound polite, and smiled feebly.

"Well, Just Visitor, I guess you could say you ended up in the wrong place. This is Hog's Head, and I'd advise you to get up and get out as soon as possible. This isn't a popular place for using the Floo, nor is it a place for pretty young ladies like yourself," he grunted and went back behind the bar.

Pretty young ladies? Despite her Veela ancestry, she wasn't that pretty, especially with her pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes; something that even the talking mirror in her room noticed and so bluntly pointed out.

Albina looked around the pub. The place wasn't crowded at all, yet the few who were seated around the mismatched tables on rickety old chairs regarded her with something that resembled malice. She couldn't really tell; she could barely see the glint from their eyes, hidden under deep dark hoods. She went for the door as imperceptibly as possible but was unsuccessful. Near the exit she was halted by a man with a bandaged hand and bloody eyes who just entered the pub moments ago. Nevertheless, he was already reeking heavily of alcohol and sweat.

"What's the rush beauty? I'll buy you a drink." He smiled stupidly.

"No thanks," she mumbled as her heart started to throb nervously.

"Oh come on, just one drink."

"I don't drink," she mumbled hurriedly while her hands started shaking.

"If you wanna go straight to business, that's fine with me," he grumbled and gave her a sick smile.

She chose to ignore that comment, which might have been a mistake, since the man now seemed convinced about what she was. Before she could nervously pull out her wand he had already taken out his and she was disarmed with a simple flick. She gasped in fright and he smiled even sicklier. She looked around wildly but the bartender was gone. All the other guests were certainly not about to intervene. They were all hiding under their hoods, pretending the world around them didn't exist. There was no one to help her. There was only one chance.

Thankfully she still had her previous wand in her other sleeve. Somehow she was not able to part with it. She hid her hand behind her, covering it with her coat. Carefully she let the wand slip down her sleeve, little by little. With her agile fingers she managed to pull it down without raising any suspicion. Her breathing calmed down. She felt confident and assured now. She could do this.

The man advanced on her. She recoiled in distaste, repulsed by his odour, his unshaven face, and his bloodshot eyes. His bandaged hand reached out to grab her. He was close, close enough to whisper in his ear. That was all she needed.

_"Captiosensus,"_ she whispered firmly while resuming a full firm hold on her wand and pointing it at his chest. The man got a somewhat glassy look in his eyes. The hand covered in bandages stopped in mid-air.

"You will let me go. Go sit by the bar, please," she said, surprised by her own collected tone of voice.

"Let you go..." he repeated dreamily.

"Yes. Just wait for me there, alright?" she said, trying to sound believable.

"Yeah... I'll... wait..." he said and obediently went to sit by the bar in a dreamy state.

Albina breathed a sigh of relief, retrieved her other wand and hurried out on the street. She completely forgot about the unpleasant incident the moment she set foot outside.

She had never been in an all-wizard village before. It was as if the Floo she used was a time machine. The houses reminded her of medieval times, their roofs covered in straw. The street was obviously not made for any kind of vehicle at all; wizards barely needed any carriages or cars.

The time for the Tournament came sooner than Albina thought it would. She visited practically every store in the village just to window-shop and had a drink at the Three Broomsticks. It was quite crowded, but with a much more amiable bunch of people than the Hog's Head. Apparently she wasn't the only one coming to see the spectacle. She followed a bunch of chattering witches towards the site through the main gates adorned by grotesque boar statues – with wings no less. The scenery of the enormous Hogwarts' Castle perched on a monumental cliff above the lake was breath-taking, and she just had to pull out her sketchbook to do a quick sketch. But then something a great deal more distracting caught her eye. Upon seeing what was in store for the champions she just stood there rooted to the spot.

Dragons. Real life-sized dragons! Four of them! Were these people mad?

She spent a great deal of the first three champions' performance hiding her eyes behind her fingers and murmuring agitatedly, _"I can't watch this... They are mad! Mad! To let underage wizards anywhere near dragons... Pure madness!"_

She only lifted her head in interest when the girl who seemed to be part Veela performed a skilled little Trance Charm; quite similar to the one Albina had to perform on the man in the pub. The girl was French, the Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour, and seemed to have inherited quite a lot of Veela traits, so she must have been the first or the second generation. Albina was only the third generation; one of her great-grandmothers had been a Veela – not enough to inherit any traits that would be really worth mentioning, though her overprotective mother would strongly disagree with that. Albina rarely had the opportunity to see one of her kind since they weren't many in this world, but she was able to recognize the traits up to the fifth generation. It was simply something she could feel, though she couldn't really explain how.

Then _he_ came. Harry Potter. He looked so small, so fragile. Yet when he got on his broom Albina couldn't help but to notice how agile he was. _He'd make a great bird Animagus_, she thought to herself and smiled slyly.

It wasn't enough seeing him from afar. She wanted more. She wanted to know about the boy, see the scar again, and listen to his voice. It was a strange feeling she could not quite pinpoint, but ever since she knew of his existence she felt somehow connected with him. She even sneaked behind a group of trees and hid in a bush after the task was over, observing him as he approached, her smart cover completely undetectable.

Harry Potter and a ginger haired friend of his just rounded the trees when seemingly out of nowhere a woman in acid green robes appeared behind them where there had previously been a large green beetle hanging on a twig. Albina leaned her head to the side in surprise. Another Animagus? Very interesting... And she, like herself, was snooping around Harry Potter, too. Just what was going on? She soon understood that the woman was a reporter. Later, upon closer inspection, when the woman attempted to interview some people at the Three Broomsticks, she discovered with much surprise that the journalist was none other than Rita Skeeter. Apparently the magical world was a very small place, even in Britain.

After Albina returned to London it took her days to write the letter to Albus Dumbledore. She realized she didn't pay much attention to him at the Tournament. She was preoccupied with dragons and Harry Potter. She vaguely remembered his long silvery beard that reminded her of wise old characters in stories she used to read as a child. Then she had to wait for the first salary from Kitcher & Owen and with that money she visited the owl store, Eeylops Owl Emporium. It was time to purchase her very first owl. It was an investment worth making, since the letter to Dumbledore surely won't be the last one she would have to send.

Soon her room was adorned by an owl cage and filled with occasional soft hooting of a beautiful, almost completely white barn owl. Upon discovering the Latin name of the species Albina saw no alternative but to name her new companion Alba.

The bird was magnificent. Albina attached a silver chain to her leg with a small metal tube for letters. The metal container featured a small figure of a dove and initials AG. The barn owl inspected the decoration with suspicion at first, but then Albina showed her its uses and the bird was more than pleased with the new addition to her leg. She could even swear she saw the bird checking herself in the mirror. In Albina's opinion, however, it primarily attracted less attention. It was also much more convenient for the bird to have a small roll of paper safely stored in a tube than a flapping piece of parchment attached to its leg. It was also much safer since the content would incinerate itself if someone else but the addressee tried to open the tube. Anyway, it was something that everybody in her community used. Lately, however, telephone was also gaining on popularity in Carniola.

Everything was set to send the letter to Albus Dumbledore. Albina rolled the snow-white piece of paper in a neat small scroll, as it was customary in her country, and placed it inside the metal tube. She still couldn't quite comprehend how a big piece of paper could fit into a tube barely as big as her thumb, but it always did.

Seeing her owl disappear above the roofs of London, she smiled fondly at a funny coincidence. Alba was delivering a letter from Albina to Albus. Stage two of her mission was finished.

sss

It was late Christmas Eve when Hogwarts received a strange visitor. No one but the Headmaster was aware of it though. He was waiting in his circular office at nine o'clock in the evening as it had been agreed in the letter. With a flick of his wand, purple light illuminated the window. This was the sign that would enable her to locate the correct tower. The aged Headmaster was excited. This visit could explain many things indeed. And perhaps form powerful alliances.

Silent snowfall was slowly filing the windowsill as Dumbledore waited in silence. Suddenly there was a knock on the window. Dumbledore flicked his wand again to open it and allow the visitor in. A gush of chilly night air filled the office with dancing snowflakes, but there seemed to be no one there. Dumbledore already wanted to stand up and have a closer inspection when a grey female figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere and jumped to the floor with a soft thud of her black ankle boots.

"Good evening. Headmaster Dumbledore, I presume?" she asked without hesitation, catching her breath and shaking the snow off her shoulders.

"Yes, that would be me," he confirmed, acting as if her form of entrance was of everyday occurrence to him.

"I'm Albina Gray. Pleased to meet you," she introduced herself.

"Good evening, Miss Gray. The pleasure is all mine."

Albina took off her winter gloves and they politely shook hands.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore gestured towards the chair in front of his broad desk.

"Thank you."

Miss Gray had large pale grey eyes with a sad and tired sparkle in them, Dumbledore thought when he had a better look at her. The pupils were encircled by a thick dark line as if someone had drawn them on her face. She had deep dark shadows under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept well for a while. Her long ash blonde hair was tied back in a simple pony tail. Her face and posture suggested she was older than she really was. She was wearing grey Muggle clothes, plain trousers and a sweater. She had already removed her warm coat and knitted hat, but kept her black scarf.

At a first glance she appeared to be an ordinary young woman, but Dumbledore's trained eye could see that there was definitely something special about her. The air in the office gained a certain quality the moment she stepped into it, and though it was feeble, it was undoubtedly there – the charm of a Veela.

"If I can assist you or your community in any way, please, do not hesitate to ask me," he offered without delay.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you, but that is exactly what I came to offer to you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It is well known that you had – or rather probably still have – a problem with a certain Dark wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort," she said business-like.

"Not afraid of his name, I see." He lifted his eyebrows and nodded at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I'm not from around here... Should I be afraid of it?"

"No, not at all. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, I always say."

She nodded in agreement and continued quickly as if she was in a rush.

"I've also heard that you were – and still are, I presume – the leader of an organization called The Order of the Phoenix."

"That is correct, but we are not currently fully active," Dumbledore confirmed. "It is supposed to be a secret organization, though. How did you find out about it?"

"Tom Abbot, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron."

"Ah. I see you've found the ultimate source of information." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled in amusement. "So what is this extremely important matter you came here to discuss with me? I was under the impression that you were in a rather urgent need of my assistance, though you were most reluctant to disclose the details in your letters. I am also most curious how you came to the idea that Harry Potter's scar hurts him."

"Can I trust you not to share the information I will give you with anyone?" she said rather rapidly and nervously.

"Certainly." He inclined his head.

"Then you wouldn't object if we made the Unbreakable Vow?" she asked carefully.

Dumbledore paused a little and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Not at all. It's just that we need a third person to perform the incantation."

"I'm aware of that. Pick your most trusted man or woman."

Dumbledore slowly nodded in accord. He waved his wand and produced some sort of a bird-shaped Patronus, apparently sending it off with a message. Albina observed his piece of magic with interest but did not comment on it.

"May I ask about the portraits? Can they share the information they hear?" she asked suddenly, noticing the many painted eyes and ears.

"They are all bound to serve the current Headmaster and if I make an Unbreakable Vow, they are a part of it, too," he explained.

"I see. Good." She nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Nevertheless, I'll request them to excuse us for a moment. I sense that all this secrecy and caution from your part has a serious reason behind it. So, my dear late colleagues, if you would be so kind to give us some privacy…"

With quite a bit of grumbling the numerous portraits that pretended to be asleep emptied their frames.

"How rude of me, I haven't offered you anything. Would you like some tea? Lemon drop perhaps?" Dumbledore motioned to the bowl of sweets.

"No, thank you." She smiled politely.

"Well, I am quite fond of them, so do excuse me if I serve myself one." The Headmaster chuckled lightly.

Albina looked around the rounded office with interest. It was crammed with bookcases, portraits and rickety tables full of strange silver mechanisms. Then something by the door caught her eye.

"Is that a phoenix?" she asked in amazement.

"Yes, indeed he is." Dumbledore nodded.

"What's his name?" She gestured towards the sleeping bird on his golden perch.

"Fawkes."

At the sound of his name Fawkes opened his eyes sleepily and stared at the two human beings seated behind the desk with mild interest.

"Can I approach him? I've never seen a phoenix before," Albina requested excitedly.

"By all means. He is very friendly."

The young woman stood up and walked towards the bird. She smiled and reached to touch his marvellous plumage. He seemed to enjoy her touch, judging by how he leaned his head towards her hand.

Dumbedore observed her with great interest, wondering what sort of information would be so important for her to demand the Unbreakable Vow, and more importantly, how she knew Harry's scar hurt the boy. Dumbledore had known of it since summer, when Sirius reported that Harry complained about it in a letter.

Albina was still absentmindedly stroking the bird's feathers when there was a knock on the door. Suddenly she found herself standing face to face with a tall dark man, who entered the round office promptly. His sallow features were framed by curtains of greasy jet-black hair.

"Good evening," he greeted, being slightly surprised by the unexpected and unfamiliar presence. Albina flinched a little by the sound of his voice that did not correspond with his features at all, and found herself unable to answer back. His voice was the exact opposite from his harsh looks – it was deep and soft as velvet, and it touched her ears like smooth silk.

"You called for me, Headmaster?" he said, eying the unknown visitor suspiciously with his cold black eyes and stepping towards Dumbledore's desk.

"Yes, Severus. I apologize for the most inconvenient timing, but this is a matter of great importance, as you will surely understand."

"I had no prior arrangements, and as you know, the majority of the staff is staying here over Christmas anyway, preparing everything for tomorrow's Yule Ball. How can I be of service?"

"First, let me introduce you to Miss Albina Gray. Miss Gray, this is Professor Severus Snape, the Hogwarts' Potions Master."

"Nice to meet you," she said with a polite smile and offered her hand.

"Pleasure," said Snape in a formal voice.

Snape glanced over the empty portraits briefly and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He knew something rather serious was going on and was wondering what the young woman was doing at Hogwarts.

"Severus, I have called you here to perform the Unbreakable Vow between Miss Gray and myself," said Dumbledore straightforwardly. The Potions Master lifted an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing.

"I trust you know how it is done?"

"Yes, I know how to bind it," Snape confirmed.

"Then let us not waste any time," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat and joining Albina at the centre of the room. They seated themselves on opposite chairs and interlocked hands. Snape raised his wand over them.

"I'm ready when you are," he announced. Dumbledore nodded to Albina, who opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait," Snape interrupted and let down his wand, "She came to you and demanded _you_ make the Unbreakable Vow with _her_?"

"Yes, that is correct," confirmed Dumbledore.

Snape turned to Headmaster in disbelief, standing agape. "What sort of information could possibly be so important to you, to agree to such an outrageous demand?"

Albina smirked. "I can see why you've chosen him, Mr Dumbledore."

Snape frowned and turned to her, looking purposely into her distinctively encircled irises, "Chosen me?"

She was left speechless again as his blank black eyes bore into her with ferocity. Snape turned to Dumbledore questioningly as she did not provide him with an answer.

"Headmaster, I must insist you reconsider," Snape said with perseverance, measuring Albina up and down scornfully.

"She is only acting wisely by not trusting a complete stranger," Dumbledore retorted firmly and determinately. "In answer to your previous inquiry, she asked me to choose the one I trust most to bind the Vow. I have chosen you obviously. If you feel you cannot be of service to me, you are free to leave, of course, and I will simply need to find someone else."

This clever little speech obviously convinced the Potions Master since he withdrew his wand.

"That won't be necessary," he said. "I apologize for my prior lack of respect. It is not my place to tell you what to do after all. You are making the Vow, not I. You should know best what you are doing," he added coolly. Albina and Dumbledore resumed holding their right hands at shoulder level and the Headmaster nodded to her again.

Albina spoke softly, her voice sounding rehearsed, "Do you, Albus Dumbledore, swear not to reveal the information that I, Albina Gray, will give you tonight, to anyone in any way except with my permission?"

"I do," the Headmaster solemnly consolidated the Vow. A fiery thread wind its way out of Snape's wand around their hands and bound the promise.

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore, rising from the chair. "I trust you won't disclose what happened here to anyone?"

"Of course not, Headmaster," Snape said impassively, wished them good night and left the round office.

sss

_Next: Albina reveals her secret to Dumbledore._

_I thank everyone who has managed to read this far. Please leave a review!_


	6. Chapter 5: The Second Scar

_Previously: Albina made the Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore and met Severus Snape, Dumbledore's most trusted man, who bound the Vow. _

sss

THE SECOND SCAR

Albina sat back in front of Dumbledore's desk. They stared at each other not knowing exactly how to start the conversation or what to expect from it.

Dumbledore raised the question first. "Why did you come here, Miss Gray?"

Albina shifted nervously in her chair and opened her mouth only to sigh anxiously. She frowned and bit her bottom lip trying to compose herself and then finally spoke up.

"I came here to warn you what Harry Potter's scar means," said Albina in her quiet voice. "I _know_ it means that Voldemort and Harry Potter share a special _connection_ and I am certain that Voldemort _is_ unable to die because of it. The boy's scar proves that," she stated, each word carefully selected and pronounced in perfect English. Dumbledore leaned forward from his chair.

"How do you know of it?" he asked, sounding merely mildly curious.

Albina hesitated, but there was no turning back now. She came this far to complete the mission she set for herself. She took a deep calming breath before revealing her secret for the very first time.

"I know of the existence of a second scar."

Dumbledore flinched almost unnoticeably. There was a long, awkward stillness that followed. Even Fawkes did not rustle a feather – though he was half asleep anyhow.

"Are you saying there is another person who has the same kind of scar that Harry Potter possesses?" Dumbledore asked is disbelief.

"Yes," Albina confirmed in a serious tone.

"I find that hard to believe," Dumbledore said dismissively.

"I can prove it," she retorted heatedly, her eyes shining with determination.

"Forgive me for my disbelief, but I'd have to see the scar first with my own eyes," Dumbledore asserted firmly, his blue eyes blazing with intimidating power.

At first Albina just stared at him, not moving a muscle. Her eyes became rather glassy and blank as if there was nothing behind them. Then she nodded, saying, "Yes, I thought you would, too."

She took another deep calming breath and pulled her knitted sweater down her left shoulder, right above her heart. Dumbledore widened his piercing blue eyes in shocked disbelief.

There was a scar carved in angry red against Albina's delicate white skin. It bore the shape of a lightning bolt.

Dumbledore stared at it thunderstruck. The weird delicate silver instruments on spindly desks around his office stopped tinkering completely and stood still as if frozen in time, but Albina did not register that strange occurrence.

"May I... approach and touch it?" Dumbledore asked softly in a strangely excited wonderment, but still with a tinge of doubt in his voice. Albina widened her eyes, feeling slightly anxious about the request. She had never let anyone touch her scar until now; no one knew she had it in the first place. She did not even like touching it herself.

"I have to be certain, surely you understand that? It won't hurt you a bit," he added soothingly and adjusted his half-moon spectacles on a better position atop his crooked nose. Albina nodded slowly and let him stand above her, prodding her scar with his thin fingers and poking at her with his wand while he was murmuring incoherently under his breath. As soon as it was over she heaved a sigh of relief and wordlessly let the fabric slip back into its place. Dumbledore sat back behind his desk mutely, appearing aged and white as a ghost. Nothing was said for what seemed to be a considerable amount of time.

"I apologize for causing you distress. I had to inspect it so there can be no doubt you are telling the truth. Alas, I am convinced now that you are," he said in earnest, the words sounding rasp. She acknowledged his apology by nodding curtly without a sound.

"Tell me, how did – _this_ happen?" he asked softly, motioning towards her left shoulder.

"First, tell me, how much do you know about the nature of the scar that Harry Potter and I carry?"

"I don't know much. Harry was, until now, the only person in history with this mark. I can only make assumptions," Dumbledore answered tactfully.

"Do you know what a Horcrux is?" she asked straightforwardly. Dumbledore paused a little before answering, struck by her directness.

"Yes," he finally confirmed, his aged face wearing a grim expression.

"You do?" she said in surprise. "Er... do you know how it is made?"

"Yes. I have a book explaining it in detail," he answered.

"Oh. I had a feeling that the knowledge on Horcruxes is extremely limited and not something you can easily come across in a book," said Albina, sprouting a crease between her elegant brows.

"It used to be different in the past. The book is quite old. It had been in our school library some fifty years ago – in the restricted section of course, but nevertheless," Dumbledore told her. "Besides, I am rather old myself, so I have had plenty of time to encounter quite a number of things in my lifetime." He smiled feebly while his eyes where twinkling gloomily.

"Oh. Well, while you have a book about the – _procedure_," she said, pausing as if she just swallowed something bitter, "_I_ on the other hand have experienced it on my own skin."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened and he regarded her with sympathy.

"How old were you when this happened?" he enquired gently.

"It happened quite recently, about two and a half years ago," she said in a quiet voice, swallowing a bitter lump in her throat again as the memory resurfaced.

"Do you remember it?"

"Oh yes. In every detail," she replied with sourness.

"I am terribly sorry," Dumbledore said sincerely.

Albina averted her gaze and began telling him her story in a barely audible voice, not fully aware that the words were in fact coming out of her own mouth.

"There was a Dark Wizard back where I come from. His name was Vilan Mal. You probably never heard of him, he isn't very well known around here," she said, glancing at Dumbledore.

"No, I don't believe I ever heard of him," he confirmed.

"Perhaps you know him by his other name. He gave himself a fashionable nickname, as it is – apparently – befitting for every proper Dark Wizard. He named himself Kovran, which means 'Raven' in a dialect of our language," she told him.

"Oh, yes, now I remember. I think I heard of him through my sources in Croatia and Albania. I believe he was causing problems all over the Balkans and he was apparently hard to catch because of his ability to change into a raven."

Albina nodded. "Yes, precisely. He is still quite notorious in the Balkans, but he didn't have any followers like Voldemort did. He just had this idea that it was possible not only to give magical properties to objects and beings, but also to transmit magical powers to them. He was interested in a number of things that enable this – Transfiguration, Charms, _Dark Magic... _In the beginning he was conducting only harmless yet nevertheless illegal experiments, trying to create a new magical plant or an animal. When he got tired of his failures, he went on a trip all over the Balkans and met quite a number of Dark Wizards. His experiments became rather... brutal. Then he came across some old Greek manuscripts in Istanbul. They contained detailed instructions on how to make a Horcrux."

Dumbledore interrupted her. "How did he obtain them exactly?"

Albina shrugged. "They are not that uncommon to be found amongst the Balkanise, you know, especially in some Dark Magic bookstores. It was, after all, the place where the first Horcrux was invented. They are not common knowledge though, so Kovran was mesmerized by his discovery," she explained. "However," she continued in the same rehearsed manner, "while most Dark Wizards would be struck by the idea of immortality, this was not what fascinated him. He believed he discovered something everybody else missed."

"The transmission of magical powers," Dumbledore declared knowingly.

"Yes, _exactly_, how did you know?" Albina asked in awe.

"You told me yourself that Kovran was interested in that particular branch of magic. In addition, Harry is a Parselmouth, just like Voldemort is," he explained.

"What's a parcel-mouth?" Albina asked and frowned in bewilderment.

"It's _Par-sel-mouth_ and it's a rare ability to converse with snakes," he clarified patiently. "Please continue," he requested.

"Well, like you said, Kovran discovered the possibility of magical power transmission in those manuscripts. He believed he found the answer to what seemed impossible; to actually transmit magical powers rather than giving something only magical properties. It was described that the Horcruxes – objects and animals – appeared to have certain magical powers. He believed he finally found what he was looking for. In his madness and obsession to prove his theory, he managed to create his own two Horcruxes." Albina paused, swallowing a lump in her throat, but her eyes stayed the same – blank and empty.

"He was never interested in immortality, though," she continued. "He was even terrified at the prospect of having to live a half-life. So he chose a mortal raven for his first Horcrux as he was a raven Animagus himself, rather than an object that would give him immortal life. He was also able to control it and communicate with it through his Animagus form. However, after his raven died, Kovran became... unbalanced. In a way, he lost his other half, which affected him greatly, I believe. That was when he decided to finally make a... _human_ Horcrux, and so he gave me the scar..." Her methodically rehearsed voice shook for the first time. "Excuse me…" She choked, wiping a single tear with her sleeve.

"Take your time," Dumbledore said soothingly.

She took some deep calming breaths and swallowed hard, her eyes becoming blank again as she resumed relating the story in a dreamy state.

"Well, you can pretty much guess the rest. You have the book; you know how it's done. I got the scar, but that's where the similarities with Harry's case end. Kovran did not disappear or die. The Killing Curse did not rebound as he never tried or intended to kill me in the first place. He was caught a few days after his... _experiment. _He confessed everything to a secluded group of Guardians and the Elders of our community. They are also the only ones who know what happened." She paused to look at Dumbledore, whose face was grave.

"I know you are telling the truth, of course, but it is just so unbelievable. To think another person with the same scar exists..." Dumbledore whispered incredulously and shook his head in astonishment. "Does anyone know you have the scar?"

"No." Albina shook her head. "I've never shown it to anyone, not even my family. I didn't think it was important. I don't think even Kovran knows about it. The Elders of my community know that I'm a Horcrux, because Kovran told them and because they found the manuscripts he had discovered in Istanbul. But they don't know that Harry is also a Horcrux. They don't know what the scar means," she told him.

"I see," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved that the secret was still safe.

"The story doesn't end there," Albina continued. "After a while I started to get these... weird dreams. That was when they discovered there was some sort of a connection between Kovran's mind and my own."

"A connection you say…" Dumbledore muttered. He suddenly stood up and started striding nervously up and down in front of his desk, stopping next to a window and looking out of it though there was nothing to see but his feeble reflection on the murky glass surface.

"Yes," said Albina, following the aged Headmaster with her grey eyes, wondering what made him so restless.

"What sort of a connection? Could you get into Kovran's mind? Could he access yours? Was he even aware of the connection?" Dumbledore asked urgently, the questions rushing out of his mouth like a torrent.

"Er... I guess... It started with the dreams. Then I had visions when I was awake. I could feel him when he was upset and especially when he was angry. That was also mostly when my scar hurt. I had dreams and visions about his past and I could sometimes... sort of... see through his eyes. I think it also goes the other way around. He definitely started to feel the connection. He even tried to control me through it." Albina shivered in disgust. Dumbledore turned around and looked gravely at her.

"How? What happened?" he whispered in a low voice.

Albina shrugged. "I don't know. He only managed to stay inside for a couple of seconds. I guess I was able to push him out somehow... Can't explain it really. It's... Well, I think it's this thing I can do with my mind. I can make it go blank inside my head," she said, pointing to her head as she was struggling to explain what she was doing.

There was silence as Dumbledore looked at her intently, pondering something in his mind, and then he asked her, "What happened to Kovran?"

"He's as good as dead," Albina said coldly, her wide eyes darkening dangerously. "At first the Elders tried to talk some sense into him. If he felt sorry for what he did, then maybe his soul could become whole again and the part of it that is still attached to me would leave me. No such luck…"

She snorted in contempt. "Even I tried to talk to him. The man was completely mad. He thought of me as his creation, he called me his daughter…" She shivered in disgust as she remembered it all in vivid detail. "He thought—" She suddenly paused. "Well, he was mad," she said, changing her mind in mid-sentence. "So the Elders decided to thoroughly Obliviate him. He is nothing but a vegetable now. And when I die, he will finally die, too," she said bitterly. "At least I haven't had many weird dreams since he was Obliviated. He hasn't tried to control me again and the scar doesn't hurt much. Everything seems to be in order."

"I am glad to hear it," Dumbledore said sincerely. "Now tell me, if Kovran touched you, did it burn him?"

Albina frowned. "Er... no, I don't think so. My scar started hurting whenever he was near me, though. Why?"

"It was like that with Harry in his first year here."

Dumbledore then explained to Albina what transpired at Hogwarts the first year when Harry was eleven, about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone that Voldemort wished to steal with the help of a Hogwarts professor named Quirrel. He told her that Voldemort managed to come back by attaching himself as a parasite to Quirrel and when he touched Harry, he was burned and died.

"I came just in time to pull Harry away," Dumbledore finished.

"That must have been horrible. Harry was just a child…"

"Yes. Alas, he found himself face to face with Voldemort the very next year and defeated him again. I'm afraid that won't be the last time either."

He showed her Voldemort's diary and told her his real name was Tom Riddle. When he told her the diary was the first Horcrux he came across, she stared at it agape and took it in her small hands.

"This was a real Horcrux?"

Dumbledore nodded, which confirmed Albina's suspicions that Harry wasn't Voldemort's only Horcrux – she simply knew there had to be another, whether and object or an animal. One of the reasons why she came to Dumbledore was to tell him about that possibility, and in case it hadn't been found yet, aid in the search. She felt relieved that it had already been taken care of.

"Such a simple thing..." she whispered, sliding her fingers into the burnt out hole.

"Basilisk fang," Dumbledore explained upon seeing her questioning look.

"Basilisk!" she exclaimed. "Where on earth did you get one? I thought it was illegal to breed them."

"It was a very old specimen. It lived here at Hogwarts actually, in a legendary hidden chamber, the Chamber of Secrets. We resided above his lair for hundreds of years without the slightest suspicion," said Dumbledore.

"Hundreds of years? That's not old, that's ancient!" she exclaimed. "It's not still out there, is it?" she whispered in fright.

"Have no fear, it's gone. Harry made sure of that. He killed it with Godric Gryffindor's sword and used its fang to destroy the Horcrux." He pointed at the glass case behind him containing a sword with large glistening rubies on the handle, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"So Voldemort tried to come back twice already?" Albina asked incredulously, placing the diary carefully back on the desk.

"That is correct," Dumbledore verified grimly.

"So what are you going to do about it? How can you prevent it?"

"Alas, we will have to wait until he succeeds, so we can destroy him," Dumbledore said simply.

"But – you do understand that if Harry is a Horcrux, this means that Voldemort cannot die, don't you? As long as Harry has a piece of soul inside of him, Voldemort will keep coming back."

"Yes, you are quite right."

Suddenly Albina widened her eyes and gasped, uttering what sounded like a juicy word in her language. "You – oh no… I didn't mean to! I've just realised... Please, you mustn't do that!"

"Mustn't do what?"

"You – you are not going to... _kill_ Harry, are you?" she whispered. "That was never my intention, never! I – just, it never occurred to me... Oh no, what have I done?" she said, covering her mouth with her delicate hand.

"Calm down, please. I will not kill the boy, I assure you. I've known what he is for quite a while now; your information is not fresh news to me. I already have a plan," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Oh... What will you do? Will you try to capture Voldemort and Obliviate him?"

"I wish it were that simple," Dumbledore sighed and smiled sadly. "Voldemort is a very powerful Dark Wizard. One cannot simply catch him and Obliviate him. He is too powerful. Besides, you cannot capture someone who possesses no proper body," he said, trying to put it in simple words.

"He has no body? How can he be alive if he has no body?" Albina asked wide-eyed.

"Indeed."

"Oh. That's what it means... Being only half-alive," she whispered gravely as she finally comprehended the meaning of it.

"Precisely," Dumbledore verified her conclusion.

"So you're just going to stand back and wait, until he somehow acquires a body?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore simply. Albina glared at him in disbelief.

"Well, I suppose that's the only thing you can do at the moment..." she said slowly, seeing the crude logic behind it. "Will you at least let Harry know? If he has the same kind of visions and dreams like I had, or if he'll have them in the future, it can be very confusing to him. You should explain to him—"

"The boy must not know," Dumbledore interrupted her, his expression becoming severe, his blue eyes losing the kind twinkling.

"He has the right to know," Albina objected, the muscle in her jaw tightening unpleasantly.

"No. It is of vital importance that he does not know until he is ready. He must find out on his own," Dumbledore insisted.

"No," she said firmly. "You have no idea what it's like to have the connection! You cannot let this happen. You have to tell him! I will not let—"

"You will do nothing," he said decisively, all the kindness gone from his voice.

"Are you... _threatening_ me?" she whispered, hardly believing what she was hearing.

"I would do no such thing. Perhaps I expressed myself a tad too harsh. I am only asking you to realize what the right thing to do is," he said calmly, his wand still resting on his desk as Albina gazed at it nervously.

"But – I thought—" she mumbled in confusion.

"I told you before, I have a plan. It is essential that Harry doesn't know what he is until the very end. I implore you to trust me on this."

"Alright," said Albina slowly, staring fixedly at Dumbledore. "What _can_ I do then?"

"You should go into hiding," Dumbledore advised her.

Albina frowned. "Why?"

"No one must know what you know. You should go as far away from here as possible."

"But – I have just come here," she objected. "I have put _all_ my effort in coming here to warn you."

"You did not come here in vain, I assure you. You gave me an extremely valuable piece of information. I did not know about the possibility of a mind connection until now," he reassured her. "Nevertheless, it would be very wise for you to return home," Dumbledore commented softly.

"No, I am not going back," she said determinedly. "I want to stay here and help you bring Voldemort down," she said resolutely.

"It is too risky. No one must know who – or what you are. You must go into hiding."

"No, I don't think that would be necessary," she said, suddenly sprouting a small grin in the corner of her lips. "You see, I already have several means of disguising myself."

Dumbledore raised his brows in mild surprise.

"Trust me. I can blend in without a problem," Albina assured him. "I won't attract much attention. I know some basic Face Transfiguration as well. I can take care of myself."

Dumbledore stroked his long silver beard in though, pondering something in his mind.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "Perhaps it is for the best that you remain here. It would be wise to find out more about the connection your scar provides you with. If it's the same with Harry..." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, his sentence unfinished.

"Good. I can stay here for as long as you need me," she told him.

"It is settled then. Still, we should take the necessary precaution. Your knowledge is extremely valuable. Perhaps there is something I could arrange for you..." Dumbledore said slowly. "A good friend of mine would – I am certain – be most glad to provide you with accommodation. She just recently lost her husband. They have a perfect hideout; it had never been breached in all the time they resided there. She's also rather old and could use some help, if you don't mind of course."

"I don't mind helping your friend, but I don't want to cause anyone any troubles. Really, you can trust me. I can take care of myself."

"Please, I insist. It is of vital importance that no one finds out about you. Voldemort thinks he's the only one who knows about his Horcruxes. I wish to keep it that way."

"No one will find out, I assure you. Really, there is no need for this. It's not as if the scar is on an exposed area of my body. I don't think anyone would get so lucky to see it. You are the only one whom I've ever told about the scar, and I did that only under the Unbreakable Vow. Besides, I just got a job at Kitcher & Owen store in Diagon Alley last month. Can't quit so soon, can I?"

"You do have a point." The Headmaster chuckled. "I must admit you acted wisely. Still, one never knows what lies ahead, so please consider the option I'm offering to you. As I understand, you're still accommodated at the Leaky Cauldron, are you not?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"It is rather expensive, is it not? Not very comfortable either. You can't stay there for much longer now, can you?" He was gently and tactfully trying to persuade her.

"Well..." she said hesitantly.

"It's also quite crowded," Dumbledore continued. "All sorts of people – and beings – wander through there. It's risky, don't you think?"

Now that he put it like that, she saw that perhaps she didn't think this through enough, and it started to worry her.

"It is essential that no one sees your scar or finds out that you know about Voldemort's Horcruxes," Dumbledore stressed the importance of it once more. "He thinks he's the only one who knows about them, and as I've said before, it is of utmost importance that we keep it that way. If he feels they're threatened, he'd most likely move them and protect them even better. Our chances of destroying them would get very slim."

Albina suddenly comprehended. "Wait, you are saying there are _more _Horcruxes?"

"Oh yes; it is only a theory of course, but besides Harry I suspect there could be at least four Horcruxes in addition to Voldemort himself. The diary I showed you was only one of them and I am quite certain there are more."

Albina gazed at him open-mouthed. She did not expect this, but then again, she did not expect many things in her life. By now she should be used to surprises, shouldn't she?

"So he has split his soul into… six parts? _Six_?" she said incredulously, the comprehension drowning on her.

"It is possible," Dumbledore confirmed. "Your story undoubtedly proves that it is possible to make more than one Horcrux. Voldemort has definitely gone further with it than any Dark Wizard before him had. I can't be sure of the exact number, though. "

Albina was shocked to say the least.

"I can't believe this..." she whispered. "I thought Kovran was bad. Next to Voldemort he's like a little angel as he only managed to make two of them!" she exclaimed, her nervousness more than noticeable in her trembling voice and fingers.

Only now she comprehended the magnitude of it all. This was no child's play. That was why Dumbledore was so insistent on relocating her to a safer place. She felt so foolish... Oh, really, what _was_ she thinking? That she'd save the world, telling him they should simply catch Voldemort and Obliviate him? How utterly naive of her! She was so angry with herself.

The thought that this Voldemort was three times worse compared to Kovran scared her to the very bones. How come she didn't see that when she was reading about all the horrible things Voldemort had done at the height of his power? Why didn't she comprehend people were afraid of saying his name because they were terrified of him? She was blinded by this silly belief and quite enjoyed thinking that she was on some sort of a mission, an adventure of some kind. She believed she finally found her purpose. Only now could she see just how naive and selfish she was. Did she really expect she'd turn out to be the hero of the story with a happy ending?

Then again, knowing just how horrible Voldemort really was probably wouldn't make her change her mind, she realized, but she'd think it through more than twice before rushing to Britain as some kind of a self-proclaimed superhero. Her shoulder started to prickle uncomfortably again, but she ignored it.

"I... I didn't realize it was that serious," she whispered. "I just thought..." She sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I simply couldn't understand why Voldemort would want to kill Harry if he made him to be his Horcrux. Or why would he make him into a Horcrux in the first place."

"Harry was his accidental Horcrux. I believe it happened completely involuntarily. Voldemort's soul is so unstable that a part of it attached itself to Harry as Voldemort tried to kill him and the Killing Curse rebounded," Dumbledore explained.

Dumbledore told her about Tom Riddle's obsession with power and immortality. He told her that there was a prophecy announcing the birth of a boy with the power to vanquish Voldemort. The Dark Wizard tied to kill Harry as a baby because he thought the prophecy spoke of him.

"I still don't understand... Oh, this is all just so confusing to me! I thought Harry survived because he was a Horcrux. I thought that perhaps it wasn't possible to kill your own Horcrux."

"Interesting conclusion. Nevertheless, it's a wrong one. Voldemort tried to kill Harry before the boy became a vessel for a portion of his soul. Harry survived because his mother Lily died for him. Her sacrifice protected him and is protecting him still. Voldemort cannot touch him."

Albina pondered what the Headmaster said, her brain processing all the information, placing each item on its shelf.

"Of course... It makes sense now," she whispered. "Oh, I'm so embarrassed. I feel so stupid, bragging about my abilities, thinking how important I am because I have the scar, while I had no idea what I was up against," she said, rubbing her forehead in mortification.

"You couldn't possibly know all the details. They are not public knowledge after all. I am grateful that you decided to come here and tell me about what you knew. It shows that you have a strong sense of duty."

Albina shrugged. "I just felt I had to do it."

"So, will you reconsider relocating to this hideout I mentioned earlier?" asked Dumbledore. "You could still work at Diagon Alley."

"Alright, if you could arrange a safer place for me to stay, I'd be glad to move. As long as it's under seven galleons per day, because I really cannot manage much more."

"Nonsense. You will not pay a sickle. I'll see to it."

Albina tried to object, but Dumbledore silenced her with a raised hand.

"It's not negotiable," Dumbledore said stubbornly. "Consider it as a favour in exchange for your cooperation. I want to explore your connection with Kovran, if you are willing."

"Alright, thank you. I'll help you any way you want."

"It is settled then. I'll inform you in a letter when I arrange all the necessary details."

This sounded like a closing sentence, so Albina grabbed her grey coat from the chair.

"I should probably go now. It's quite late and I still have to get all the way back to London," she said, glancing at her wristwatch. It was almost ten o'clock in the evening.

"While we're on the subject, how did you manage to come up here to my office in the first place?" Dumbledore asked, unable to hide his curiosity about her unusual arrival.

"I flew," she said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Forgive me, but in this weather?" It was after all midwinter in Scotland and it was snowing heavily. "I also couldn't help noticing you have no broomstick," he added.

"I don't need a broomstick," she said and smiled mysteriously as she was putting her short coat back on.

Dumbledore lifted his bushy eyebrows in question, but she didn't elaborate.

"Perhaps you could find a place to stay at Hogsmeade?" he suggested. "It's Christmas tomorrow and it's an awfully long way back to London when one isn't using Apparition. Are you still not comfortable with it?" he enquired kindly, remembering what she told him in the letters.

"Nothing to worry about. I'll simply use the Floo at the Three Broomsticks. That one's always open and available. That's how I came here. Though I'm not comfortable with it either – always makes me dizzy and slightly sick to the stomach. I just prefer more conventional methods of transportation," she explained, blushing slightly in embarrassment.

"I see you have everything thought through. Be careful and lay low until I contact you," Dumbledore ordered her in a fatherly fashion.

They respectfully shook hands and said goodbye, politely wishing each other Merry Christmas. Dumbledore flicked his wand to diminish the lights and open the window for her, thinking all the surprises of the eventful evening were over. Yet he was mistaken.

Albina stepped on the windowsill spreading her arms like wings. Before Dumbledore could object she jumped boldly, turning into a grey dove in mid-air, and flew away into the cold winter night.

Dumbledore turned to the half-sleeping phoenix on the golden perch with a bemused smile.

"She certainly is full of surprises, don't you agree, old friend?"

sss

_Next: Albina and Severus meet again in the rose garden in the evening of the Yule Ball._

_Please leave a review. I would really like to hear from you!_

_Thank you!_

12


	7. Chapter 6: Rose Garden

HARRY POTTER

_Previously: Albina revealed her secrets to Dumbledore and showed him her scar._

sss

ROSE GARDEN

Dumbledore closed the window with a small flick of his wand and strode to a dark wooden cabinet near the door. He opened it and took out a heavy stone basin with rune signs all along the edge, carefully relocating it on his desk. He gently pulled his recent thoughts into the Pensieve.

The content of the stone basin swirled restlessly until he touched it with his wand. It instantly became clear as a mirror.

Albina's face swam to the surface. Her voice reverberated from somewhere far away.

_"He just had this idea that it was possible not only to give magical properties to objects and beings, but also to transmit magical powers to them."_

Something was troubling Dumbledore's mind. He touched the surface of the Pensieve once more, forcing another part of the latest memory to resurface.

_"He believed he found the answer to what seemed impossible; to actually transmit magical powers rather than giving something only magical properties_._"_

Dumbledore pondered what she had said until another part of their conversation whirled to the surface of the Pensieve.

_"I have put all my effort in coming here to warn you."_ Albina's voice reverberated from afar.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and observed Albina's silvery face with curious interest. He touched the surface with the tip of his wand. The memories became clear again.

_"That was when he decided to finally make a... human Horcrux, and so he gave me the scar."_

Dumbledore stared at the Pensieve as yet another memory resurfaced.

_"He thought of me as his creation, he called me his daughter…"_

The foggy liquid memories swirled restlessly in the Pensieve. Suddenly Dumbledore stood up and walked to a spindly desk at the edge of his office. He carefully lifted a small complex silver instrument and relocated it on his desk while its parts continued to tinker in a slow soft motion. Dumbledore tapped it lightly with his wand and stared at it in deep thought. The mechanism turned and tinkered loudly, shimmering in the feeble light, and in the end it emitted a tiny black puff of smoke from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore observed it carefully, murmuring in his beard.

"Could it be?"

The wisp of smoke whirled restlessly, and then slowly it thickened and formed the shape of a bird – a black raven.

"Of course. But since when?"

The black raven suddenly closed its wings around itself and morphed into an egg shape. The egg cracked down the middle, the crack resembling a lightning bolt, and out of the black egg a grey dove was born, stretching her wings widely.

"Naturally. But in her essence?"

The grey dove folded its wings and morphed into a tiny human-like figure, a beautiful woman with long shiny hair fanning behind her in a light breeze.

Dumbledore frowned. "Yes, I suspected that, too. It cannot be the source, though."

The little figure morphed back into a black raven. Without blinking Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with his wand. The clinking noise stopped, and the smoke raven grew faint, became a formless haze, and slowly dissolved into thin air.

Dumbledore turned to his sleeping phoenix in comprehension.

"Clever girl. She didn't tell us everything, did she?" he murmured.

sss

It was difficult to navigate through the snowfall in complete darkness, feeling the freezing air beneath her wings, but thankfully Albina's bird eyes could soon distinguish the feeble lights among the thousands upon thousands of snowflakes. She quickly descended to Hogsmeade, landing softly on a track beaten in snow some distance from the houses. She did not want to be noticed.

She burst into her human self and made a few muffled crispy steps when she realized that all around her freshly fallen snow was still untouched. She had to cover up her tracks. She reached behind her sleeve to use an Obliteration Charm, but then she remembered that she had left her wand in her room. She couldn't have taken it with her since an Animagus was not able to transform together with his or her wand. She heaved a sigh. It wasn't that important anyway; everybody was inside at this time, celebrating Christmas Eve. Her footprints were being covered in fresh snowfall anyway, and when she looked behind her it was as if she had never disturbed a single snowflake.

Slowly she made her way to the village and used the Floo at the Three Broomsticks to get back to the Leaky Cauldron. Rosmerta allowed her access to the back room, so she was able to come and go relatively unnoticed as she pleased.

She frequently visited Hogsmeade lately due to her new job. Kitcher & Owen had a store in Hogsmeade as well, and she was in charge of supplying both stores with ordinary Muggle products, some to be charmed, others to be used as they were originally intended and others placed on shelves only to attract curiosity from Wizards and Witches. Unfortunately both stores were quite small, crammed and had no Floo connection.

As Albina climbed out of bed the next day to do her mourning routine, she bumped into a heavy package placed at the foot of her bed. Alba stirred and hooted in her cage as Albina cursed loudly. Unwrapping it she soon comprehended it was a Christmas gift from the Landlord of the Leaky Cauldron. It was a heavy book entitled _Hogwarts: A History_.

"That's nice of him..." she mumbled sleepily. "I guess he's just returning the gesture," she said to her barn owl Alba and threw the heavy volume on her bed. Tom Abbot received a small present from her in early December in thanks for his kindness. He was ecstatic about it – so ecstatic apparently that in return he got her the heaviest book he could find.

She wasn't accustomed to exchanging gifts on Christmas. She received a large shipment of presents from her family and friends on the sixth of December however, and was looking forward to a new one on the New Year's Day. Her family and friends sent her things they thought a girl would like; sweets, an expensive perfume, a vial necklace. Only Robert sent her a bottle of a special red wine from her home region. The bottle was still left untouched in the corner of the wardrobe, waiting for an appropriate moment.

Her mentor Perun Novak, however, sent her a most useful gift. He was a superb Potions Master and inventor of a special potion on which he made a fortune. No one knew the exact formula but him, so he was the sole supplier for the world's magical market. He sent her a stock of his precious invention and she put it to a good use yesterday when she visited Dumbledore. It made her tongue run smoothly in a foreign language and enabled her to convey the whole story without difficulty.

"I got you something as well," said Albina and unpacked a small brown bag, dropping the content into Alba's food bowl.

"Owl treats. Enjoy."

Alba hooted indignantly and turned around in her cage, the silver cylinder around her leg rattling softly against her perch.

"What? Don't you like them? I've been saving all month so I could buy the whole bag, so you better like them," Albina grumbled and went to the bathroom to comb her unruly hair, murmuring about big-headed owls.

Towards the evening she went to sit by the bar in Leaky Cauldron to chat with Tom, as she often would. She thanked him for the gift first and he just shrugged modestly, saying she was asking him way too many questions about Hogwarts, to which he had few answers, so he decided to provide her with the ultimate source of information. The old bartender was still quite keen to share a number of stories with her, though. He knew what seemed to be half of the magical world in Britain. He knew people's names, their families and their stories. He was just in the middle of a story about winged horse racing when a jolly man with a round red boyish face suddenly entered the pub from the Muggle street, conversing loudly with a short wizard sprouting rich mutton-chops and wearing a brown bowler hat.

"I'm in a hurry, Banks, I am attending Hogwarts' Yule Ball. We can discuss it later."

Banks didn't seem happy with this, but the jolly man simply smiled and waved to Tom, making ridiculously big yellow stars on his bright purple robes dance wildly. Albina thought wizards were supposed to blend in when venturing into the Muggle world, but apparently some simply disregarded that rule.

"Hey, Tom! Merry Chistmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Mr Bagman," Tom retorted.

"Must be off. I'm attending Hogwarts Yule Ball, you know. Very important event, and a wonderful tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, don't you think?"

"Yes, yes, it is…" Tom murmured and nodded, smiling politely.

"This year's Tournament is going down in history! Harry Potter competing as the second Hogwarts champion, the youngest in history no less! What an event!"

Bagman seemed to put special effort in being overheard. He was shouting to Tom from across the other end of the pub, pretending he was just leaving in a hurry. Finally he exited to Diagon Alley and presumably Apparated.

"What is _Yule Ball_?" Albina asked Tom. She remembered the Potions Master mentioning it yesterday evening in Dumbledore's office, but didn't know exactly what it meant.

"It's a Christmas dance; a formal dance with fancy dress robes and nice music. It's organized at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament." Tom was by now accustomed to explain everything to Albina in plain words.

"Oh, so it's like a school dance."

"Yes, sort of."

Tom went to serve other customers then, leaving Albina to form an interesting idea in her head.

She could go to this Yule Ball. Harry Potter was a champion and he would most certainly be there.

She was desperate to see Harry again if only from afar. It was like she formed a bond with the boy even though she had only seen him from afar. They both had the same mark; they were the only two people in the world with it, so it seemed to her as if she had known him all along. He was the only one who could understand what it was like.

In the cover of the night she took the Floo again and walked to Hogwarts' front gate. It was closed, but she simply threw both her wands through the metal bars, flew over in her Animagus form and sneaked up to the castle only to find a bizarre scene in front of the entrance.

In the middle of the winter snow, a real rose garden had been planted, and music sang out from inside the castle. Statues of none other than Santa and his Reindeers were placed among the rose bushes infested with fairies of all colours of the rainbow. Under different circumstances she would have been delighted at the sight of hundreds of tiny fairies fluttering around, babbling in their high-pitched voices. However, there were more important things on her mind right now. She carefully sneaked closer and hid behind a rosebush. This rose garden was beyond perfect! She could hide and blend in easily, and she might even get lucky and see Harry again. If she could just catch a glimpse of him... Perhaps speak with him. Why did she want this? She'd promised Dumbledore she wouldn't say anything to the boy. Well, she hadn't said those exact words, but she'd kind of agreed to it. Yet here she was, standing hidden in a rose bush.

She was contemplating that this might not have been her brightest idea and was considering flying away as soon as possible in her Animagus form, when she heard a familiar velvety voice which made her skin prickle.

"I am not going to do anything about it, Igor."

It was that Professor, the one Dumbledore called to bind the Vow, the Potions Master, accompanied by another man. That wasn't good. He would be able to recognize her. Dumbledore would naturally be able to recognize her as well, it suddenly occurred to her. It would not look good if she was found sneaking around, looking for Harry Potter. She had not thought this through at all. She needed a disguise, and fast. She grabbed a fistful of her wispy hair, concentrating on the first colour that came to mind. Her long locks became dark red. Well, not exactly what she was aiming for, but the colour was sufficiently different from her original dark ash blonde.

She took a small mirror out of her handbag to change her eyes as well. Which colour should she choose? She stared at a blooming rosebush of dark red roses, illuminated by the distant castle lights. The flowers seemed to be looking back at her. Dark red hair, green eyes. Perfect contrast. She concentrated hard and pointed her wand to her eyes. There was a funny tinkling feeling when the spell took effect. She blinked the tears away. The result was olive green. Fine enough. She had only just managed to change the colour of her grey coat to dark green when the two men rounded a corner. They stopped talking immediately.

She wasn't sure from which side they were coming, but she had no doubt they'd managed to catch quite a good glimpse of her before she'd darted behind a rose bush, her long red hair fanning behind her. One hurried set of steps thudded in her direction.

"Hey!" a man's voice called after her. She knew perfectly well who it was, and she frantically tried to run away. She had not yet managed to change her facial features sufficiently, so he would be able to easily recognize her.

"Wait!" he called for her in a strange, urgent voice once more.

She ignored him. She darted past a bench, past a busy-looking couple, into a thicker rose bush, ignoring all the thorns and fairies, hoping she could hide from her pursuer long enough to change her face and come up with a convincing identity. She'd just managed to reshape her lips and the tip of her nose when her rose bush sanctuary was blasted away. The fairies squeaked in panic and she let out a small yelp, too. Strong hands grabbed her and turned her around until she was face to face with the Potions Master. His eyes seemed strangely lost for a brief time, before resuming a completely neutral expression of mild annoyance.

Might he still recognize her, despite her disguise?

"Who are you?" Severus Snape demanded.

For one dreamy moment, when he first laid eyes on her, it felt as if Lily had come back from the dead, though of course he knew perfectly well that it wasn't possible. He didn't think it could have been _her_, but still, her image evoked a painful memory, and his reaction was almost subconscious. He studied her face carefully. He could notice more and more differences now. The colour of her eyes, the slope of the nose, the shape of the lips, the chin and the cheekbones – differences were everywhere.

"You are not a student," he said coldly. She looked too old to be a student, and he knew he would have noticed her right away. Besides the obvious similarity, there was also a strange aura around her, something that immediately drew one's attention, though Severus couldn't quite point to what it was.

"I – I – er..." was all she managed to utter.

"Now now, Severus, where are your manners." A man with a long pointed goatee and a familiar Slavic accent came closer to them, being slightly short winded. "Women do like roses, but not if they're blasted all over them." He chuckled slyly and smiled, but his eyes remained completely impassive.

"Igor, have you seen her before? She seems familiar," said Severus. He thought there was something odd about her, as if he had seen her before somewhere, and strangely it had nothing to do with the fact that she looked so strikingly like _her_.

Albina's heart jumped up a beat. The Potions Master was still suspicious.

"No, I would have remembered her," Igor said, smiling sickly with his yellowish teeth.

"Then do tell what she is doing here. As far as I recall it, the Yule Ball is not a public event. What is your name?" he demanded coldly.

"I'm – er..." Albina glanced over the blasted rose blossoms and said the first name that crossed her mind, "Rose."

"Rose? Really?" he said, lifting a corner of his lips in mock disbelief.

"Yes. Rose Green."

"Well, Miss _Rose Green_, do tell what you are doing here, hiding in the _green rosebushes_," he said velvety, which sent a chilly shiver up her spine.

"I'm a reporter," she said the first thing that occurred to her.

"Really? Which paper?"

"Er... foreign. You probably don't know it."

"How convenient." He smirked.

"I really don't expect you to be familiar with it. It's an Italian magazine. For witches," she said inventively. "I'm their foreign correspondent."

"I didn't realize witches magazines had foreign correspondents," he said icily.

"They do in Italy," she retorted firmly.

"What's the title of this magazine?" he asked.

"Strega Italiana," she shot straight out. "It means, Italian Witch," she explained with a smile.

"Pray tell, why would Italian witches be interested in the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Oh, it is very interesting! The whole world finds it interesting – Harry Potter himself being the second champion!" she said, faking enthusiasm. Really, she should have reconsidered a career as an actress! Despite her formidable abilities, the Potion's Master still didn't seem convinced.

"How did you come here? Do you have an invitation?"

"I was invited by – Oh, what's his name? Tall, funny blonde guy who talks very loudly and wears these funny robes with bright yellow stars... Bag – something..." Albina inventively used the details she remembered about the man she saw at the Leaky Cauldron. "It was at the last minute. I didn't even have time to change into a more suitable attire," she added and glanced at her coat which was now green, thanks to a quick Colour-changing Charm.

"See there, Severus, she was invited by Ludo Bagman. Makes perfect sense, don't you think?" said Severus's companion.

"Yes, it does sound like something that wretched Bagman might do," Severus growled.

"Now there, let's leave the lady in piece, unless she would like to do an exclusive interview with the Headmaster of this year's future Champion," said Severus' friend slyly.

Albina lifted her eyebrows and grinned widely. The Potion's Master rolled his eyes at his friend's presumptuousness.

"Er, sure," she said and took her sketchbook and ball-pen out of her handbag. Conveniently she always had it with her, a habit and a hobby of hers.

While she interviewed Igor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Snape disappeared in the maze of rosebushes, apparently patrolling around for misbehaving students.

Albina was grateful that she was acquainted with the Durmstrang School and was quite surprised by how inventive she was with her questions. She asked Karkaroff how he felt about the fact that there were two Hogwarts Champions. He chose quite a few juicy words and began winding his long pointy goatee around his finger when he heatedly explained to her all the details of which she was not acquainted with. She only knew a fragment of what transpired at Hogwarts when the Champions were selected. It began to slightly worry her why and how Harry got chosen to compete despite the age restriction.

The interview was quite short but apparently successful, for Karkaroff seemed not even remotely suspicious of her. He even told her to send him a copy of the magazine. Really, she might reconsider changing her career to either acting or journalism!

She was finally left alone as Karkaroff went to find the Potions Master. She decided to take a stroll. Now that her cover seemed to be working perfectly, she wasn't worried about being seen and recognized. She hoped she might find Harry just round the corner, but except for teenage couples there was no one interesting, until she approached a tall fountain and almost yelped out of surprise. There were two enormous people sitting there on a stone bench, but they were much too busy with each other to notice her presence. She retreated back into the shadows.

"Giants!" she whispered excitedly and peaked from behind a rosebush. She had never seen giants before; they were extinct in her country. Only stories and legends remained about them.

She decided to explore the maze of roses further, hoping to find Harry. She did not encounter him nor the Potions Master and his friend anywhere. After an hour or so of wandering along the winding paths she pondered whether to fly away or not. Should she just peak inside the castle and risk her cover being blown? Standing next to a rosebush she plucked one of the fragrant flowers in thought and tucked it behind her ear, deciding that flying away was probably the best course of action, when there was a loud bang within few feet from her and Snape emerged, blasting rosebushes away.

"What the—" Gray managed to say when Snape found a hiding couple and deducted house points.

"Cooper! Davies! Twenty points from Hufflepuff. Each! Return back inside immediately," he spat at the two terrified lovebirds that ran away as fast as their feet could carry them.

She almost burst into a laugh at the sight, but he did not manage to spot her yet. She decided to announce her presence. "Professor Snape, what on earth are you doing?"

He turned around swiftly to face her. He measured her up and down, glancing briefly at the new decoration in her hair, but his face stayed the same empty mask.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, blasting the roses all over me. Again." Albina tried to sound offended.

"Well, you shouldn't be hiding in the bushes then. Again," he said mockingly.

"I wasn't hiding," she said indignantly. "Besides, what did the poor bushes do to you to blast them apart with such vengeance anyway?"

He didn't respond. His blank eyes narrowed suddenly, searching her face with suspicion.

"What?" Albina frowned.

"Wait a minute..." Snape murmured and retrieved his wand. Albina widened her eyes.

"What is it?" she said nervously.

"Your hair..."

"What about my hair?" she asked and subconsciously reached to touch the rose tucked behind her ear.

"Well, let's just say that you aren't particularly adept in Colour-Changing Spells, Miss Green – if that's your real name. _Finite Incantatem!"_

Albina blinked as the features of Rose Green melted back into Albina Gray. Snape grinned meanly and curled his lips.

"Well, well, well... Isn't this Miss Gray herself."

Albina stood there frozen to the spot. Her mask was thrown off, and she was left to the mercy of the Potions Master.

"I – I was just – I can explain," she stammered.

"Let's hear it then," he said velvety, crossing his arms authoritatively in front of him.

"I – er... I was just – gathering information..."

"Oh, you were, weren't you? I thought there must have been a reason why you were hiding in the bushes. Who are you spying for then?" he hissed.

"I'm not spying for anyone," she said indignantly.

"You do not fool me, Miss Gray or Green, whichever you are. You are up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is," he said warningly. He swiftly stepped closer and put his wand under her chin. Albina gasped.

"Who are you spying for?" he demanded again.

"I told you I'm not spying for anyone! I'm not your enemy," she said nervously.

"How would you know? You don't know which side I'm on," he hissed back.

"Well, apparently you are Dumbledore's most trusted man. Though I'm beginning to wonder why that is," she tried to say calmly and grabbed his upper arm to pull it gently from underneath her chin. He jerked it away as if she had burned him but didn't move.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, trying to decide whether she had touched his lower arm because she knew a Death Eater's Dark Mark was there. He was a skilled Legilimens, but he didn't dare invading her mind; he only tried to scrape the surface of it. He stepped closer, diving into her huge grey eyes with deftness, but there wasn't much to scrape. Was she using Occlumency?

Meanwhile Albina regarded him with wide eyes, asking herself why he was invading her personal space. He was much too close for her liking. Why was he staring at her like that?

During their encounter another student couple approached the rosebushes. The boy's and girl's eyes widened in horror as they saw them.

"I'm so sorry, Professor, we didn't realize—"

"Get back inside, Bowen!" Snape turned and snapped at the boy.

"I swear, we didn't see anything!" the boy stammered and they ran away as fast as their feet could carry them.

Albina suddenly realized how it must have looked like while they were standing there so close to each other and burst into a fit of laughter.

"What is it that you suddenly find so funny, Miss Gray?" Snape spat irritated.

"HAHAHA! You don't see it?"

"WHAT?"

"They thought we were… HAHAHA!"

She was shaking with laughter uncontrollably.

"Well, spit it out, woman!" Snape demanded impatiently. Albina gathered her senses and took a deep breath.

"They thought we were kissing!" She burst out laughing again and searched for a bench to sit down. Snape turned eerily crimson.

"I'm so glad you find this ordeal amusing," he remarked, sounding not even remotely glad about it.

"I'm sorry, it's just that it kind of makes sense, the way they saw us."

She laughed again until she looked up at him. She stopped laughing immediately. He was standing there, his face distorted in an ugly grimace, trying to suppress his rage.

"Are you done making fun of me?" he asked her bitterly. He was extremely irritated, and he wanted to throw an acid remark at her, but there was nothing sufficiently poisonous on his shelves right now.

Strangely Albina suddenly felt sorry for him. She strongly suspected that women weren't his area of expertise. She stood up and approached him slowly.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't realize I was being offensive."

She was still approaching him until she was mere inches away from his face.

"So where were we?" she asked softly. Not knowing what came into her, she boldly grabbed his arm to place his wand beneath her chin. She was so close her nose could scratch his jawline. He pulled his hand away and tried to back out, but there was a rosebush in his way and he certainly didn't want to look like he had been running away from her, so he stayed put.

"You give yourself too much credit. You are not as desirable as you think you are. Even I am not so desperate to fall for this," Snape hissed. Apparently the woman thought she could play _that_ tune on him. Well, he would soon prove her wrong.

Albina knew his comment was only meant to hurt her, so she just smiled sweetly. "Really?"

"You won't be able to distract me like this. You're coming with me," he said firmly.

"Where?"

"I will take you to Dumbledore. I'm sure he'll be very interested in knowing what you are doing here, pretending to be someone else. I'm very interested myself, under the circumstances..."

"But – I just – I didn't do anything!" she mumbled.

"You can explain it to the Headmaster," he said through clenched teeth and started to drag her along the path.

"Hey, let me go! Aw, you're hurting me!" she protested and tried to get out of his cold grasp. She managed to slip her hand out to reach for her wand but she was disarmed before she could utter a single word.

"You're either coming by yourself or I'll drag you," Snape said angrily, clutching her hawthorn wand tightly in his hand.

"Fine, I'll come. I have nothing to hide," she said stubbornly, holding her head high.

"We'll see about that," he growled and released her.

As soon as he turned around to lead the way Albina used her old trick with the second wand safely tucked up her other sleeve. She concentrated hard on what she wanted and closed her fingers firmly around the wand she used to hate so much. Now she was starting to feel grateful she still had it. She leaped forward and before Snape could do as much as yelp, she pushed her wand between his shoulder-blades and whispered in his ear, _"Captiosensus."_

He stiffened and remained still. Only his face was twitching slightly as if he was trying to shake the charm off.

_"Captiosensus!"_ Albina demanded again. When his muscles relaxed Albina knew she had him in a trance.

"Good. Now, would you please give me back my wand?" she said calmly.

"Your wand?" he repeated dreamily.

"Yes, my wand. You have it in your hand."

"I... I don't want to..." he mumbled.

"But I need it back."

He didn't move a muscle.

The music inside the castle stopped suddenly. Muffled voices exiting the dance hall enveloped the rose garden. Albina realized the dance was over.

"Please, I'd like it back," she said pleadingly, trying very hard not to sound urgent.

Snape's hands started to shake, but nevertheless he handed the wand back.

"Thank you, darling..." she whispered in a soft voice and grinned.

She knew she only had seconds before her spell would wear off. He seemed extremely resilient to the charm. She darted away and in the cover of darkness turned into a dove, grabbed her two wands with her bird toes and tried to fly away as fast as she could with the heavy load. But a dove's feet were not designed for grabbing and holding anything, and so Kovran's wand, which was much longer and heavier that her hawthorn wand, slipped out of her grasp. She couldn't do anything about it, so she left it there and flew away with only one wand.

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As soon as the spell was lifted Severus turned around in rage, intending to blast the insolent woman apart. How dare she! Using an Entrancing Enchantment of some sort on him! The fact that he could not resist her infuriated him even further.

Yet she seemed to have vanished into thin air. He combed through the bushes, blasting them apart with vengeance. He didn't bother to deduct points from the scared couples still hiding here and there among the blooming plants any more.

He was furious. His heart was pounding in his chest in a mad beat. Where did she go? She couldn't have Apparated. He stopped, his chest heaving with rage. As he looked down, his eyes found a wand lying in the grass right in front of him. He picked it up and stared at it. It was hers, he was sure of it. This must have been her second wand. Why would she leave it behind? It probably wasn't hers in the first place. He decided he needed to let Dumbledore know about it as fast as possible. She might be connected with all the strange events regarding Potter's participation in the Triwizard Tournament.

He strode into the Entrance Hall, spotting Dumbledore just exiting the Great Hall. The dance had finished apparently, and the last laggards from the Yule Ball were dragging their feet across the floor on their way to bed.

He approached him in long strides slightly short-winded.

"Headmaster, I must speak with you urgently," he said in a low voice.

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore nodded and they strode to a darker corner, standing a little apart.

"Guess who I've just met in the rose garden."

Dumbledore lifted his bushy eyebrows in question. "Enlighten me, if you will."

"Albina Gray."

"Oh?"

"Yes, only she pretended to be Rose Green, a journalist for an Italian magazine. Unfortunately for her, she isn't adept at Colour-Changing Spells, so I've discovered her true identity; though I'm beginning to wonder if Albina Gray is her real name at all. It all sounds a bit too _colourful_, if you know what I mean."

"She's not a threat, Severus," Dumbledore murmured calmly.

"Not a threat? How can you know that? You've only met her yesterday!" he protested.

"Trust me on this. She's harmless."

"Harmless? You call snooping around, attacking me and disappearing without a trace harmless?"

"She attacked you?" Dumbledore asked in mild disbelief.

"Yes! After I discovered her identity and disarmed her, I intended to bring her to you. Only she literally had another wand hidden up her sleeve and she attacked me the moment I turned my back on her. When I regained control, she was nowhere to be found. It's like she disappeared into thin air! All I was able to find was the wand with which she attacked me," he said and handed the piece of wood to Dumbledore. "I think it doesn't belong to her. She must have gotten it from another wizard or a witch. Why else would she leave it behind?"

Dumbledore pondered his words, looking at the wand pensively.

"I don't know what she was doing here, but I am sure she didn't mean any harm," he said and pocketed the wand. "I will seek her out and speak to her tomorrow."

"But—"

"That's all there is to it. Leave it at that," Dumbledore said firmly. "Now to more pressing matters. Did you manage to speak with Karkaroff? Is it the same with his mark?"

Severus stared at the Headmaster, not quite believing how quickly Dumbledore discarded the matter and changed the subject.

"Well?" murmured Dumbledore.

"Karkaroff's Mark is becoming darker too," Severus told him dutifully, directing his eyes somewhere into the empty air in front of him. "He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell." He paused and lifted his dark eyes. "Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns," he added, looking sideways at Dumbledore.

"Does he?" said Dumbledore softly, as the Beauxbatons' Champion and her escort came giggling in from the rose garden. "And are you tempted to join him?"

"No," said Severus with determination, his black eyes subconsciously following the students' figures. "I am not such a coward," he said firmly.

"No," agreed Dumbledore. "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon..."

Dumbledore walked away, leaving Severus stricken by his words. He stood there, pondering whether to take it as a compliment or an offense. If only he had found his courage sooner, let's say around the age of eleven. All could have been different if that were so. But instead he had been a coward.

He simply had to accept things as they were. He couldn't change the past, and to him regret was simply a waste of time. If he had regretted what he had done, he might have been able to forgive himself. He would allow himself no such luxury. He much preferred hating himself for what he had done. The way he saw it, he deserved it.

He looked back through the entrance door, absorbed in thought, when the rose garden and the events in it arose freshly carved into his mind. He shook it out of his head and strode down the dungeon stairs to his private quarters in a bad mood.

As he changed into his nightshirt and lay down in bed, her words kept echoing in his memory. As much as he wanted to, he could not shake that wretched woman out of his mind. He could almost sense her warm breath in his ears...

_"Thank you, darling..."_

What insolence! Calling him darling! He growled and turned around, determined to fall asleep as soon as possible. As much as he tried to clear his mind, the images of her face, of both her faces, floated in front of him, features melting into one another, until Rose Green's face suddenly became a much more familiar face with striking green eyes.

He got up with a grunt. It was that damn spell, he was sure of it! When it took effect a wonderful dizzy feeling swept over him, clouding his judgment. He would have done almost anything to please her, anything she wanted. He had never experienced anything alike on his own skin. What kind of a spell was it? Trance Charm? Entrancing Enchantment? It was similar to Veela Charm, but he could easily resist that with Occlumency. This spell was something else. It dangerously boarded on Mind Magic, even the Imperious Curse. Could it have been a piece of Dark Magic he was not familiar with? He tried to remember exactly what she whispered into his ear, but it all seemed foggy... If he remembered correctly she had to pronounce it twice, hadn't she? What did she say the second time?

He should have remembered! He closed his eyes, exhaled calmly and strained his memory.

What was the word?

_Captiosensus_, yes, that's what it was.

He growled angrily and spent the whole night perusing his private library to find a suitable counter spell, while her image, her big bright eyes, persevered in his mind as clear as grey mountain peaks washed in spring rain.

sss

_Next: Dumbledore takes Albina to a home of a very old friend of his._

_Thank you for reading. Please leave a review!_

14


	8. Chapter 7: The Old Manor

_Previously: Albina and Snape met in the rose garden in the evening of the Yule Ball._

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THE OLD MANOR

Albina was not particularly surprised by the Headmaster's visit the very next day. The knock on her door at the Leaky Cauldron left her with little doubt about who might be behind it.

"Come in!" she called. Alba hooted nervously in her cage as the visitor entered.

"He told you what I did, didn't he?" Albina said as she turned around to face Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. He didn't say anything at first. He just observed her with interest as if she was a curio he had never seen before.

"If you're referring to Severus, yes, he might have mentioned some details about your encounter yesterday evening," he said casually and handed her Kovran's wand.

"You've found it," she stated and took it. "Thank you."

"Actually, Severus found it."

Albina looked down at the mention of the man's name, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came into me," she said and smiled sheepishly. In truth, she had quite a good idea about what had possessed her yesterday evening.

She hadn't been acting like herself at all. She actually flirted with the Potions Master, spurred by the funny incident when two students thought they'd caught their professor kissing her. Like that wasn't enough she then used a Trance Charm on him. It wasn't like her at all and she was overcome with mortification just at the thought of it.

She had a strong suspicion that the potion she took on Christmas Eve before visiting Dumbledore, had something to do with it. Perun Novak's invention, the famous Linguopotion, was known to cause a number of side effects, from obsessive smart-talk, urgent need to study dictionaries word for word, and apparently it also caused brainless recklessness, along with a strange tendency to be attracted to tall dark strangers with deep velvety voices.

"He told me you attacked him," said Dumbledore and closed the door behind him.

"Er… sort of, if you can call it that," she said, grinning apologetically. Oh yes, she attacked him alright, and boldly used all her female charms on him, thinking he'd be an easy target. She always liked being in control, especially when it came to men. It was in her blood; she had to admit that to herself, and she didn't like it at all when he grabbed her to drag her to the Headmaster. She always wanted the upper hand on the matter and she wouldn't think twice of using her female attraction to do the job.

"Why would you do something like that?" asked Dumbledore.

Albina shrugged. "I just… didn't want to be dragged to you. I didn't know what to say to you, how to explain what I was doing there." Her tongue seemed to be a bit rusty, and her pronunciation wasn't particularly exact, all telltale signs that the Linguopotion had thankfully stopped working.

"What were you doing at the Yule Ball disguised as Rose Green?"

"Oh, he told you about that, too, did he? I hadn't planned on snooping around under disguise or anything. I just panicked when I heard Mr Snape approaching, and I transfigured my face so he wouldn't recognize me. The name Rose Green just popped into my head and the rest of it as well. I never meant to cause any trouble. I just wanted to see Harry," she said in a small voice.

"What for?" Dumbledore asked gently, piercing her with his blue eyes.

Albina shrugged again. "I just wanted to see him, speak with him. I wasn't going to tell him anything, honestly. I was afraid you might interpret me being there in that way – that was why I pretended to be Rose Green."

"I believe you," Dumbledore said sincerely.

"You do?" she said in surprise. "So – why are you here then?"

"To ask you what you were doing yesterday at the Yule Ball and you've already answered that. I also came here to inform you that I have already arranged you a new place to stay. You can move in right after New Year."

"That was fast," she said more lively.

"I will come to pick you up on the first Sunday after the New Year. That would be the third of January, if I'm not mistaken, sometime before noon, so be sure to be prepared," Dumbledore informed her.

Albina nodded. "Where will we be going?" she asked.

"You will see when we get there," said Dumbledore mysteriously.

Albina frowned. "Don't you think I have the right to know where you are taking me?"

"We will be going to Devon. That is all I can tell you at the moment. I know I am asking a lot of you, but I implore you to trust me once again," Dumbledore said firmly. "It is for your own safety," he added softly.

Albina now knew better than to argue with Mr Dumbledore. He was much older and smarter than she was, and he knew things she didn't. She learned that well when she first met him, so she figured it was best to stay quiet and trust him.

"If anyone asks, tell them you're going to live with a nice old lady, who let you a room in her house for a really small price and in exchange for some company. Tell them her name is Mrs White."

"Alright," she agreed, wondering if there was any truth in Dumbledore's words.

At this point she expected Dumbledore to wish her good day and head for the exit, but he casually looked around her little room and engaged her in a conversation. She politely answered all his questions about what she thought of Britain, until he breached a completely different topic.

"Severus has told me you have two wands. How come?"

"Oh, well, one is from... you know... _him_. And the other one I bought myself here at Ollivanders," she explained carefully.

"I see. How are they working for you?"

"Fine, I guess," she said, shrugging. "Though my hawthorn wand tends to backfire sometimes if I'm not careful about it," she murmured and wondered why Mr Dumbledore was asking her that.

"Could you perhaps demonstrate a piece of magic for me?"

"Erm... Alright," she said slowly, looking quizzically at him. She took her hawthorn wand out, but she had no idea which spell she should show him.

"Perhaps a simple Summoning Charm?" Dumbledore suggested.

"I'm not sure I'm familiar with it," she said.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and demanded, "Accio!"

A piece of paper flew from Albina's desk directly into Dumbledore's hands. This gave Albina an idea. She brandished her wand and demanded, "Circumvolate!" Almost all the papers suddenly rose from her desk into the air as if swept by a powerful whirlwind in the centre of which stood Albina. Even the paper in Dumbledore's hands tore away to join the wild dance.

Albina gasped. "Oops, sorry," she said and cancelled the spell. All the papers now littered the floor, including the whole stack of Daily Prophet she got from Tom. She only wanted to lift a couple of them, making them whirl in the air around her a couple of times, but instead she caused a mini tornado.

"I got a bit carried away," she said apologetically, but Dumbledore seemed to be positively beaming.

"Marvellous!" he exclaimed and applauded enthusiastically.

Albina gazed at him. Was he in his right mind? It was a simple Hover Charm which she got all wrong anyway. Perhaps he wasn't familiar with the spell? She noticed long ago that different nations used different arsenals of spells. Yes, that must have been it. She lifted her hands again to clean up the mess.

"Dirigo!" she demanded. The papers trembled and started to arrange themselves in a neat pile.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore complimented her again, but she ignored him, for it just so happened that the top paper was the Daily Prophet with Rita Skeeter's article and a huge picture of Harry Potter in the front. Albina hastily picked the pile up and put it back on the desk, remembering something as she gazed at the picture of the boy.

"Mr Dumbledore, I have a question," she said, turning around to face him.

"Ask away," he said, his eyes twinkling with curious delight.

"This Triwizard Tournament. Why is Harry participating? He shouldn't, he's not old enough anyway."

Dumbledore's eyes lost the amused twinkling at once. "Yes, there is quite a mystery around it. I wish I knew how exactly his name ended up in the Goblet," said Dumbledore.

Albina furrowed her brows.

"We can discuss this later. I would rather not speak of all the details here," Dumbledore said before she could inquire any further. This was enough, however, to confirm Albina's suspicions that something was amiss.

"I will see you in a week then," said Dumbledore, wishing her goodbye and leaving her alone in the room with Alba.

Monday morning it was time to do the usual errands once again. She exited to the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron, tapped a brick in the wall, hurried up the quiet street, past sleepy shops, past a tall white marble building which was Gringotts, past Ollivander's wand shop, and finally she entered a tiny shop with a small sign – Kitcher & Owen – hanging over the doors.

"'Morning," she greeted to announce her presence, and soon she heard a familiar voice in the back of the shop.

"Good morning Albina; you're just in time. Could you please arrange the shelves by the window? Oh, and could you wash the window from both sides, too? One can barely see outside or inside."

"Sure," she said and got to work. She arranged and filled the shelves, aligned all the price tags, then went to get some water and rags to scrub the window thoroughly. She was just contemplating whether to levitate herself or just the dirty rag to reach the top window corner when Mr Kitcher emerged at the threshold, his powerfully built shoulders clad in his usual midnight blue robes. He was eying her with his raised dark eyebrows.

"Use a Cleaning Charm, Albina. Just because we're selling Muggle products doesn't mean we have to do everything their way," he said grumblingly and shook his head.

"Right. Cleaning Charm…" she murmured and eyed the rag in her hand. Well, she could make it _look_ like a Cleaning Charm, right? She levitated the rag high up and directed its movements, waving her wand like a conductor.

"That's better," she heard Mr Kitcher, eying the finished work from the inside. "Now, could you please get what's on this list and deliver it to Hogsmeade's store?"

Albina skimmed over the parchment and groaned. "Not toilet paper again? Why can't you make spells on never-ending rolls last longer?"

"We would run out of business then, wouldn't we?" Mr Kitcher replied with a chuckle.

The job she had wasn't a dream job, she realized that long ago, but she needed money. So yes, she found herself in the position of the supplier of Wizarding World with Muggle goods that even wizards and witches found indispensable. Magical toilet paper factories were, after all, nowhere to be found. Wizards were perfectly content in letting Muggles do all the dirty work for them.

She ventured into Muggle London and took the Tube to get all the supplies on the list. She always had to go to dozens different stores and buy as many different kinds of toilet paper as she could find. There wasn't any logical reason behind it; Mr Owen was simply oddly fascinated with all the colours and smells.

Finally after two or three hours of shopping she stuffed all her purchases into a bag with an Expansion Charm (courtesy of Mr Kitcher), took the Tube back, ventured through Muggle streets, stopped by a musical instrument shop and stared at a guitar on display longingly, just like every time she passed this street. She knew how to play the instrument fairly well; she took classes for six years. But those times were gone, all her talents were wasted, and her job was ensuring that the whole Magical Britain could wipe their arses contently. What more could she ask for?

Upon entering the Leaky Cauldron and greeting Tom, she went to use the Floo, emerged in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and exited on the slushy High Street.

Oh how she wished wizards would have invented something similar to asphalt! She had never seen so much mud and slush in her life! She squelched through the sludge down the street towards the store where Mr Owen greeted her at the threshold, replaced the bag with a new one and promptly pushed another list in her hand.

"Not another toilet seat..." she grumbled. "Why do kids at Hogwarts have such fun with blowing up toilet seats?" she complained and set off on another expedition.

It was how most of her work days looked like. It mostly meant eight hours of being constantly on her feet, so when she got back she didn't feel like doing anything but sit by the fire with her feet propped up on a tabouret and stare at the flames, filling in her sketchbook and trying to come to terms with this strange new world she had found herself in.

Each day she would discover something new, whether it was a charm she wasn't familiar with, or a funny word she later discovered to represent a magical animal or a plant. She also got to know in detail how this world operated, hidden from the Muggle world yet so dependent upon it.

It wasn't only toilet paper and toilet seats the wizards were eager to borrow from their ignorant neighbours. Toothpaste and toothbrushes were another example, though their magical counterparts did exist. Unfortunately the magical version of toothpaste could turn your stomach just by looking at it, hence the popularity of much more pleasantly tasting Muggle mint toothpaste.

She spent New Year's Eve alone in her room, filling her sketchbook again, accompanied only by Alba's constant hooting and fluttering. The barn owl was clearly shaken by the infernal noise of crackers and fireworks she could hear from both Muggle and Wizarding London.

Next day Albina received presents from her homeland again. As predicted she got sweets as if she was a silly teenage girl and another supply of Linguopotion from Perun. She made a mental note to be very careful when and how she would use it again.

As promised, Mr Dumbledore came to pick her up after New Year. She had packed her belongings, released Alba after Mr Dumbledore assured her the bird would have no problems finding her, and said goodbye to Tom. The only thing she told him was that a friend had arranged a place to stay for her.

"This way, please," said Dumbledore as she put on her backpack, picked up her travel case, grabbed Alba's cage and announced she was ready. Dumbledore was pointing at the small backyard where behind the brick wall the magic world of Diagon Alley was safely hidden from the Muggle eyes.

Albina couldn't understand why they were going that way. "We could use Tom's fireplace, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," she suggested, pointing at the back of the pub, which was strangely completely empty.

"I'm afraid we'll have to Apparate," said Dumbledore and headed outside.

"A-apparate? But – but – I don't—" she blabbered out and followed him out to the tiny backyard. "You know I don't Apparate!" she protested, placing the cumbersome owl's cage on top of one of the dustbins in the corner.

"You won't have to. We'll use Side-along Apparition," Dumbledore explained, took the owl cage himself and courteously offered her his elbow. Albina hesitated.

"I – er… I don't do well, I mean, I don't take well to Apparition..." she mumbled.

"I'm sure you will manage. You simply hold on to me tightly. There is nothing to be afraid of," he assured her.

"Um..." said Albina and regarded the old man's elbow as if it was a scaly crocodile about to strike at her. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you," she agreed reluctantly.

"Whenever you're ready," said Dumbledore softly.

Albina's expression changed into a determined one. She took a deep breath as if she was about to plunge into deep water, closed her hands firmly around Dumbledore's forearm and shut her eyes.

Suddenly her feet detached from the ground, her breath was squashed out of her lungs, and her body felt like it was squeezing through a keyhole. Before she could gasp for breath she felt solid ground beneath her feet once more. She grabbed Dumbledore's forearm tightly, trying to steady herself. She felt like a wrung out cloth, her head was dizzy, and her stomach just didn't feel right. Bile rose up her throat, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to contain it for much longer. She released her travel case and collapsed on the wet ground, her stomach turning inside out. Before she knew it she was sick all over the bramble bushes in front of her. So much for the power of will and determination.

"Oh dear. Are you alright?" asked Dumbledore worriedly, patting her on her shoulder and offering her a handkerchief.

"Will be soon," Albina croaked, grimacing from the horrible taste in her mouth. Dumbledore conjured a silver goblet and filled it with water.

"Here. Have something to drink," he said and offered it to her. She first rinsed her mouth thoroughly and then sat on top of her case, removed her backpack and put her hand between her knees to steady herself. A couple dozen deep breaths later she was on her feet again while Dumbledore regarded her apologetically.

"I apologize. I should have taken you more seriously when you told me you don't cope with it well," he said and banished the empty goblet that Albina handed back to him.

"That's alright. I don't know why I always vomit. It should stop by now. I just can't stand it. It always reminds me of—" She caught herself and glanced at Dumbledore.

"Reminds you of what?"

"Well, when Kovran attacked me, he... He used this Side-Apparition by force, without warning."

Dumbledore's eyes glimmered sympathetically.

"I'm sorry. Had I been aware of causing you such distress, I would have arranged a Portkey," he said.

"Don't worry," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I don't like Portkeys much either."

She stood up, put on her backpack and looked around with interest while Dumbledore took her briefcase.

"Oh my, but this is heavy," he murmured. "How in Merlin's name were you able to hold this up?" he said and tapped the heavy piece of luggage with his wand. "There, much better."

"Where are we?" Albina asked as she lifted the large and clumsy owl cage, pinned it under her armpit and looked up and down the narrow hedge-lined country lane. As far as her eyes could reach there were wet fields and pastures covered in dead winter grass and crisscrossed by hedges, but there was little snow. They had gone south obviously. The air carried a faint smell of salt. She soon caught a glimpse of a steely blue patch of sea in the distance to the right. Cold wind blew from that direction and judging by how the trees further down the lane were combed away from it, it must have been a regular occurrence. Pastel blue clouds were rushing from the sea across the sky like sponges full of water.

"We're in North Devon," said Dumbledore and headed towards the bare trees that extended over the lane in a peculiar fashion. Albina trailed behind him as they went deeper and deeper into the trees until the branches became so thick that they nearly formed a tunnel. The lane narrowed and they came to a halt at what seemed like a dead end.

"Don't touch the trees or the hedge unless you want to die a slow, painful death," Dumbledore warned her.

"Wo- What?" she mumbled and paled, shifting the owl cage nervously in her grasp.

Suddenly Dumbledore turned around and regarded her curiously.

"Tell me, what do you see?"

Albina blinked. What kind of a question was that? "Er... I see... um... trees... and this path..." she said uncertainly.

"Yes, and where does this path lead to?"

Was that some sort of a tricky question?

"Well, I don't know about the other end, but this end leads to... here," she said, gesturing in front of her.

"So this appears to be a dead end to you?"

"Er... yeah..." she said, wrinkling her forehead quizzically.

"Marvellous!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Noticing Albina's puzzled expression he explained further.

"You see, if a Muggle happens to come along this path, he or she wouldn't have come to a dead end. They would have simply continued along the lane as if nothing had happened. Also, if a wizard or a witch with malicious intentions comes here on purpose, the intruder would not have been able to find this place. Besides, even if he did, he would have been eaten by the hedge before he would have had a chance—"

"Eaten by the hedge?" Albina whispered in horror, gawking at Dumbledore with her expressive grey eyes like a scared animal.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to scare you. You have nothing to worry about. I was merely pointing out how well protected this place is," Dumbledore explained.

Albina glanced nervously at the bare plants all around her. Judging by how still they were, they weren't about to attack and eat her any time soon, were they? She breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently she successfully stood the first test in proving she had no malicious intents.

"Observe carefully now," said Dumbledore, gaining her attention. "See this rock here with the symbol?" he asked, pointing at the overgrown dead hedge on the left. Albina leaned forward and noticed a rock right on top engraved with a symbol of a key.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Simply poke at the key twice with your wand. Be careful not to poke at anything else, as it may prove to be fatal," said Dumbledore casually and demonstrated how it was supposed to be done. "There," he said satisfied, turned around and observed how the hedge and the bushes that blocked the path suddenly came to life and parted, revealing a tall iron gate that could not have possibly been there before. Albina tried very hard not to gasp audibly in surprise. However, behind the gate there seemed to be nothing but another grassy field encircled by a tall hedge, just like the ones all around the hilly landscape. Albina looked quizzically at Dumbledore.

"I realize you are not able to see anything yet, and that would be because of the Fidelius Charm," he told her. "The house where you will be staying, the Flamel Manor, is right behind this gate," he said. As Albina blinked a small two-and-half-storey manor house emerged out of nowhere in front of her eyes, with chimneys protruding high upwards on either ends of the grey roof.

"Miss Gray, welcome to your new home," Dumbledore declared and passed the gate with his wand high up as if it was nothing but a smoky illusion.

Albina followed suite wide-eyed, taking in every detail. The place possessed an ancient atmosphere. She had a strange feeling it had something to do with the name Flamel – surely not _the Flamel? _

Slowly they trotted up towards the house along a stony path and paused by the doorway.

Dumbledore knocked three times on the white front door as Albina shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Slow steps were heard from the inside of the house as well as another set of small hurried steps. The door flew open, and at first Albina thought the person who opened it hid behind the door fold, until she heard a squeaky voice and her eyes travelled downwards. She started and released Alba's cage with a loud clang at the sight of a small creature with large chestnut eyes, flapping bat-like ears and a large nose that resembled a snout rather than a human nose. The creature squeaked again and hid behind the door fold, but not before it opened it widely. Albina's cheeks turned slightly pink and she hastily picked up the cage. As she turned around an old woman – no, an ancient woman stood at the doorway, her snow-white hair plaited down her back. She could have appeared very strict in her simple black dress with a short stand-up collar if she hadn't been wearing a bemused smile on her overly-wrinkled face. Her complexion was healthy though, and her dark eyes were full of life; even her shoulders stood up powerfully, but she still inspired a feeling of great age and great wisdom, even greater than that of Dumbledore.

"Bienvenus," she said beaming.

"Greetings, Perenelle. Let me introduce you to Miss Albina Gray. Miss Gray, this is Madame Perenelle Flamel," said Dumbledore.

"I am pleased to meet you," said the woman slowly and politely in a weird undeterminable accent and extended her arm to shake Albina's hand.

Albina's brains were working hard. Perenelle Flamel? Nicholas Flamel's wife? As in Nicholas Flamel, the creator of the Philosopher's Stone?

Remembering her manners Albina quickly gathered herself and responded politely. "Pleased to meet you, too."

The handshake was somewhat a dreamy experience for Albina. Was she really shaking hands with Perenelle Flamel? She forced herself to remain calm and stoical, even though she had to fight the urge to gawk at the ancient woman open-mouthed.

"You 'ave come just in time. Fidele 'as just finished preparing lunch," said Perenelle slowly, articulating every word, and beckoned them inside. Albina stepped in behind Dumbledore, resisting a strong urge to ask Madame Flamel how old she really was. It would not have been polite to ask her that, would it? She was a bit at a loss how to behave properly, and she became a bit nervous, judging by how her palms became rather moist. She started wondering if she would meet Nicholas Flamel himself as well, but then Dumbledore's words echoed in her memory.

_A good friend of mine... She just recently lost her husband. They have a perfect hideout... She's also rather old..._

She realized, glancing at Madame Flamel's black dress, that she was a widow, and a sad feeling engulfed her. It was all because of Voldemort. The Philosopher's Stone had to be destroyed, and the oldest and possibly the wisest two people on Earth had to sacrifice all their achievements and accept their fate because of that vile monster.

She turned around to close the door behind her, seeing as she was the last one to enter, but the little person that opened the door already did that for her. In fact, she (was it a she?) did it with such haste and enthusiasm that it made Albina back away in surprise, possibly even fright, the owl cage slipping out of her sweaty grasp again, clinking loudly over the floor and echoing all over the foyer. She gasped and thanks to her fast reflexes managed to catch the clumsy cage before it could crush the little being cowering by the door.

"Fidele, do not scare Miss Gray like dzat," Madame Flamel scolded the little being which hung down her ears in shame.

"No, it's my fault. I'm so sorry!" Albina exclaimed apologetically. "It just slipped out of my hands!" she said and put the cage carefully on the floor, taking another look at the tiny person called Fidele. Albina noticed she was dressed in nothing but linen towel, draped around her body like a toga.

"Fidele, take dze cage to Miss Gray's room. Dzen come back for dze rest of dze luggage," said Madame Flamel calmly.

"Oui, Madame!" the little being squeaked delightedly and disappeared with a pop, along with the owl cage. Seconds later she reappeared and smiled widely, dashing for Albina's enormous case in Dumbledore's hands, making Albina take an uncertain step backwards.

"I suspect Miss Gray has never before seen a house-elf," said Dumbledore with a bemused smile, glancing at Perenelle and handing the case to the house-elf.

"You do not 'ave 'ouse-elves in your country?" asked Madame Flamel in her slow-speaking manner.

"House-elves? I've never even heard of them!" Albina said and glanced at the little elf nervously as it gazed up at her – and gazed – and gazed...

"Oh, right," said Albina awkwardly and removed her backpack, handing it to Fidele. With a pop the house-elf and the baggage were gone.

Madame Flamel beckoned them through a large door to the right. They entered a shining dining room. The walls were all white, the beam ceiling and the furniture were of very dark wood, and on the floor lay a crimson red carpet with floral oriental patterns. A rich feast was already set on the table, but as soon as the smell of food hit Albina's nostrils, her stomach gave a dangerous lurch.

"Ah – um – I don't feel that well..." she mumbled and paused by the threshold, holding her palm tightly across her mouth.

"Are you alright?" asked Dumbledore worriedly.

"Not really," Albina mumbled.

"She doesn't take well to Apparition," Dumbledore explained to Madame Flamel.

"I dzink it would be best if you lay down for a while. I will show you to your room," suggested Madame Flamel, seeing Albina's cheeks turned rather pale.

Slowly they ascended the handsome wooden staircase. Albina felt so dizzy that Dumbledore had to support her by the elbow. They reached the landing on the first floor, turned right and stopped at the end of the corridor.

"Dzis will be your room," said Madame Flamel and opened the door they were facing.

Albina found herself in a fairly large room, again in the similar style of the whole house – white walls, dark wood furniture and crimson carpets. Her baggage was set at the foot of a large four-poster bed with deep green baldachin and bedcovers. There was a fireplace to the left and a large window to the right. A comfortable French armchair was placed directly in front of the fireplace.

She would have politely expressed her enthusiasm and gratitude, but she felt way too dizzy for anything like that.

Albina sat down on the edge of her new bed and spotted Alba's empty cage in the opposite corner of the room beside a small writing desk on spindly legs with a matching wooden chair.

"Are you sure Alba will be able to find me?" Albina asked Dumbledore worriedly again, thinking about the complicated procedure of getting to the mansion.

"She'll have no problems. It will just take her a day or two," said Dumbledore. "Remember to leave the window open for her."

"Just how well protected is this place?" asked Albina curiously, glancing through the window. She had a beautiful view to the large rear garden and orchard. The grey horizon of the sea could be seen in the distance.

"Numerous protection spells are around it, then there's the hedge, the rock, the gates, the Fidelius Charm, Anti-Apparition wards and Anti-Floo wards on all the fireplaces. Have I forgotten any?" said Dumbledore, turning to Madam Flamel.

"Dzere is also a back-door exit," she said curtly.

Albina frowned. "But – how will I get from here to my job if I can't use the fireplaces?"

"Fidele can accompany you wherever you wish to go. She can Apparate from within the wards and take you with you," said Dumbledore.

Albina sighed. "Side-Apparition?"

"Side-along Apparition, yes."

"But – you saw me before!" she protested in desperation. "I vomit every time!"

"You can take a potion for the sickness. It will stop eventually anyway, so don't worry," said Dumbledore dismissively. "It is the only way to get you in and out of the house on a daily basis without going through the main gates."

"But – didn't you say this place is protected with Anti-Apparition?"

"The magic of the house-elves is different; all the magical impediments are set against human magic, so the elves aren't affected by it," Dumbledore told her. "A house-elf's highest law is its master's order. Fidele can Apparate to Hogwarts as well, which means that you can come see me without ever stepping outside the walls."

"Oh, I see."

"We will leave you now to rest. When you are feeling better come down. You can call Fidele if you need anydzing," said Madame Flamel and left with Dumbledore, leaving Albina alone in her new room.

She kicked off her shoes and lay down atop the deep green bed covers. "Oh, wow..." she gasped at what she saw. The ceiling of the baldachin was painted and charmed so that it seemed as if she was lying underneath tree canopies swaying in light breeze. It was extremely calming. Only half an hour or so later she joined Dumbledore and Madame Flamel at the table.

After lunch Madame Flamel showed Albina around the house. She explained to Albina that there were five large rooms on the first floor, and that only two of them were bedchambers. Apparently one of them became that only recently, for it had been crammed with weird contraptions just like the other two rooms. According to Madame Flamel her late husband had an affinity for collecting things. The room had to be emptied and the content moved to the attic and to other rooms, so Albina could have a place to sleep, Madame Flamel told her.

Albina liked the library in particular and in the private study she finally met none other than Nicolas Flamel – well, his portrait at least. He was, as it was to be expected, an old bearded man of small but kind brown eyes, wearing a funny green hat and deep green robes.

With that the tour of the old manor was finished and Dumbledore bid goodbye to Madame Flamel, kissing her arm courteously. Albina walked to the gates with him.

"I hope you are satisfied with your new accommodation," he said casually as they trotted down the stony path.

"Yes, it's perfect. Thank you for arranging it for me."

"You should thank Perenelle," Dumbledore said modestly.

"I will," said Albina and smiled.

"And I lay this to your heart. Please be extremely careful and don't go anywhere all alone."

"Of course. Don't worry; I can take care of myself."

Dumbledore stopped and gave her a serious look. "I am sure you were perfectly able to do that in your home country. But you are not at home anymore. This is a much more dangerous place than you're accustomed to. Your _condition_ puts you in an even more compromising position. And not only yourself; it can affect many people. Do you understand that?"

"I understand," she said and looked Dumbledore in the eyes. "I won't do anything stupid, not on purpose anyway," she added artfully. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement, and he inclined his head in approval.

"One more thing," Dumbledore said when they reached the tall gates. "Please, refrain from using your Animagus form. I realize it can be useful at times, but I believe it simply poses too many risks. You are too vulnerable in it."

Dumbledore wished her goodbye, left through the gates and Disapparated further along the lane.

Albina was left dumbstruck. She suddenly didn't like this new arrangement much. Not allowed to use her dove form? And on top of it Apparition on a daily basis? She shivered at the thought of it. And each time she wanted to go anywhere, she'd have to call the house-elf. It was Dumbledore's clever way of controlling her whereabouts, it suddenly occurred to her. She was aware of the fact that she was far from home and that what she knew was important, but was she really in such danger?

The next day seemed to be a normal boring Monday at work. In fact it was, until she came back to Flamel Manor with Fidele, her stomach full of a potion against Apparition Sickness, and found Dumbledore waiting for her in the parlour. The news made her forget all about her dark thoughts from the day before.

"There's a situation," Dumbledore explained. "Severus has requested to see you urgently."

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_Next: Snape demands from Albina to fix what she had done to him and commits a grave mistake._

_Be so kind to leave a review. Thank you!_


	9. Chapter 8: Enchanting Entrancements

_Previously: Dumbledore took Albina to Flamel Manor. Only a day later he came back to tell Albina that Snape wished to see her urgently._

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ENCHANTING ENTRANCEMENTS

Albina was thoroughly confused by Dumbledore's piece of information.

"Why does he want to see me?" she asked him.

"Apparently the spell you used on him left some consequences," Dumbledore answered matter-of-factly.

"What kind of _consequences_?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. It didn't make any sense to her.

"You will soon find out."

"Is he sure it was my spell? They usually wear off soon, and this one in particular shouldn't last longer than a couple of hours."

"He seemed quite sure. He claimed it was rather urgent, too."

"Well, in that case, let's not waste any time."

Dumbledore called his phoenix Fawkes, who had been perched atop the mantelpiece. He explained the bird could take them straight to his office.

Fawkes landed on Dumbledore's outstretched forearm. Albina had to touch Fawkes, too. Before she knew it they were yanked through the air in a gush of golden flames.

Dumbledore's office was empty, though. Professor Snape was not there yet.

"Please, have a seat," said Dumbledore and gestured towards the two chairs in front of his broad desk. He strode to the fireplace, tossed some Floo Powder into it and stuck his head into the green flames. Albina didn't sit down. She was rather anxious. She distractedly observed Dumbledore; she didn't know the Floo could be used in such a way.

Dumbledore stepped aside as the green flames roared again in the dark hearth. A large black figure emerged among them and a second later Professor Snape burst into the office, his eyes livid. He didn't even look at Dumbledore.

"YOU!" he hissed as he noticed Albina standing by the window.

He strode towards her, his cloak billowing around his figure formidably, and grabbed her by the shoulders. She gasped in fright.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" he spat in rage, shaking her violently. Pure anger was etched on his harsh face. His black eyes were burning holes into her. Albina's heart sped up a beat. Her large grey eyes became round as the full moon.

"I – I just put you into a trance, so you would—" she managed to mumble wide-eyed.

"A TRANCE! Are you out of your mind?!" he yelled and pushed her away as if she was something slimy and disgusting. Her upper arms were left with unpleasant tingling sensation from the firm grip.

"W-what was it then?" she said in a small shaky voice.

"At first I thought it was a simple Entrancing Enchantment myself, but _no_, you had to put me under an Enchanting Entrancement!" he spat madly.

She blinked in confusion, not being sure if she heard it right. "What's the difference?" she said innocently.

"You daft woman! Entrancing Enchantments and Enchanting Entrancements are not the same thing!" he barked. "I can't conduct classes properly, I can't concentrate on anything, and I can't get you out of my head, not even with Occlumency!"

"That's your problem," she bit back boldly, even though she had no idea what Occlumency was. She thought he was simply exaggerating and felt quite resentful for being attacked in such way and yelled at rudely. But it was definitely the wrong thing to say, no matter how good it felt. Snape's black eyes bulged out.

"MY PROBLEM? OF COURSE IT'S MY PROBLEM, AND YOU'VE CAUSED IT! NOW FIX IT!" he exploded again.

"Alright, alright! Will you please calm down," she said.

To her surprise Snape closed his eyes and drew in some deep calming breaths through his flaring nostrils. She turned back to Dumbledore, her brows furrowed.

"I believe the Entrancement is still effective," Dumbledore murmured in explanation.

"But – _oh..._" Now Albina understood Snape's weird mood swing.

"I know it's still effective!" Snape exclaimed and glared scornfully at her. Apparently he had no problems with relapsing back into his merry mood.

"Professor Snape, I'd like you to sit down, please," Albina said calmly to test the theory. She knew these Entrancements worked best if you used requests, not orders, so she was careful to put it as such.

The Potions Master obediently sat down, his eyes slightly hazed. But then he seemed to realize what he was doing and he jumped to his feet, glaring at Albina. "You're trying to manipulate me!" he accused her in rage. Dumbledore and Albina looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Honestly, Severus, she simply asked you to sit down. I shall ask you to do the same thing. Both of you, actually," he said and turned to Albina. She sighed and plumped into the nearest chair.

"I don't understand. I didn't mean this to happen," she murmured apologetically and glanced at Snape, but he didn't look at her. He kept standing motionlessly with only a muscle in his jaw twitching angrily.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, but the Potions Master was still on his feet. The Headmaster raised an eyebrow at him. Snape finally sat down with a grunt.

"There is a simple solution to this problem," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Just what I needed right now. Another problem," Snape growled through clenched teeth, but Dumbledore ignored his remark.

"It obviously involves you, Miss Gray, in case you were wondering what you were doing here. I most certainly didn't bring you here simply to be yelled at," said Dumbledore apologetically, giving Snape a meaningful look over his half-moon glasses. "You were brought here to help cancel the Entrancement," Dumbledore explained.

"Alright, so what exactly should I do?" she asked nervously. She realized that her hands were shaking slightly and chided herself mentally to regain control over her body.

"You DON'T know how to cancel it?" Snape asked in aggravation.

"Er… not exactly…" she mumbled.

"I can't believe this," he murmured. "Where did they teach you magic? In a Muggle school?"

"Why can't you cancel it?"

Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Only the caster can cancel it, obviously."

"So what do I have to do? What's the spell?"

Snape sighed heavily. "You expect me to tell you the magic word, and you'll wave your little wand, casting the spell for the first time and being successful at it? I don't think so. I'd like to stay sound, thank you very much."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "If I may; it seems the only possibility is that Miss Gray first learns how to properly cancel the effects of the Entrancement."

Snape glared at her with pure hatred.

"Either that, or you'll simply have to wait for the charm to wear off, Severus" Dumbledore added, stroking his waist-long beard lightly.

"She cast it twice in a row! Who knows how long it may last! I was put under two layers of Entrancement, one right after the other! I can't afford to wait. I need to be prepared, _it's_ growing stronger. You know that," Snape growled and glanced at his forearm. His gesture sparked up Albina's interest.

"What's growing stronger?" she asked innocently.

"The Dar—" Snape stopped abruptly and glared at her, gritting his yellowish teeth. "Don't ask me questions when you know I will likely answer them truthfully!"

Albina raised her brows. "Is that such a terrible thing? Do you prefer lying to people when they ask you something?"

"Headmaster, I would appreciate if you explained her how serious this situation is. Obviously she thinks it's all good fun!" Snape exclaimed in indignation.

Dumbledore looked from Snape to Albina, smiling apologetically at her. "Miss Gray, I would prefer if you refrain from asking him anything while he's in this condition. I'm sure there are some things he would like to keep private. You of all people should understand that," said Dumbledore.

Snape looked triumphant. Albina opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn't argue with that; the Headmaster did have a point. She looked down and nodded.

"Alright, you have my word," she agreed.

"Marvellous. The details about the Disenchanting Entrancement you'll have to learn how to perform on Severus are in here."

Dumbledore had a book lying open on his desk. He handed it over to Albina. She took the heavy leather-bound volume in her lap and skimmed through the open pages. She thought the instructions were rather complicated, but nothing she couldn't manage. Halfway through her cheeks flushed as she realized what those Entrancements were meant for.

While Entrancing Enchantments were rather innocent in their nature and mostly used by witches on wizards, the Enchanting Entrancements were an entirely different story. They were most frequently used by wizards on witches and not always with friendly intentions. They were much darker in their nature, too. She paled as she realized that she didn't actually remember learning about it. Nobody could have told her about it either. The thought made her flesh creep. She knew how she knew it. Kovran, who else, creeping into her mind again. She put the book aside, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to cut the awkward silence. "Do you have any questions about the instructions?"

"It's hard to tell right now. At a first glance I'd say it's not that complicated. If I managed to Entrance him, I can also Disentrance him. But since there are two layers of the Entrancement to remove, it might take a while."

"Yes, we figured as much; we can read, too" Snape said bitingly. Albina rolled her eyes but wisely remained quiet.

"I suspect we shall have to arrange weekly meetings," said Dumbledore. "Hopefully it won't take longer than a month."

"A month!" Snape exclaimed.

"That's only four or five meetings, Severus."

"I know how many weeks a month has," he growled rudely.

"Good, I was beginning to worry," Albina cut in boldly upon an impulse, but the second she said it she wished she hadn't. Apparently the man didn't take well to being teased. The look Snape gave her was murderous, but he quickly turned back to the Headmaster.

"I demand you be present at all times," said Snape stubbornly through gritted teeth.

"Demand? Severus, you are in no position to demand anything from me," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Let me rephrase. I _need_ you to be present at all times," the Potions Master said stiffly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I shall try my best."

"Try? No. You don't understand. I am vulnerable in her presence. It so happens that my vulnerability affects you, too."

"I'm well aware of that. Must I point out again that she represents no threat to us and our cause?"

"She's trying to pry information out of me! Why can't you see it?" Snape spitted in rage. He was sure of it. He remembered well how she deliberately grabbed his forearm in the rose garden as if she knew the Dark Mark was there. And just moments ago she almost lured a confession out of him that the Dark Mark was growing stronger. Who was she, or better, who was she working for? He was determined to find out one way or another.

"You are overreacting, Severus," Dumbledore said, a strict note in his voice.

"Overreacting? Is that so?" He narrowed his eyes dangerously, assessing the older wizard. He could not understand why Dumbledore was so trusty of her when it was clear that she was snooping around. There could be only one explanation for that.

"She Entranced you, too!" Snape said accusingly.

"I did not!" Albina yelled exasperatedly.

"I think you are going too far with this now," Dumbledore said firmly, looking at Snape with a hard expression.

"I believe otherwise. What did she do to you? Promised to—"

"Severus Snape!" Dumbledore bellowed so powerfully that both Snape and Albina flinched. That was quite a feat, thought Albina, for an old man wearing bright purple robes strewn with shiny silver stars.

"You will listen to me," Dumbledore continued more calmly but firmly still. "I have a reason to trust her. A reason quite similar to the reason why I trust you." He paused to let the words sink in. "Since you clearly doubt my judgement, tell me, why should I trust _you_ then in the first place?"

Snape looked down at his feet. "My apologies," he murmured stiffly.

"I assure you, she couldn't have Entranced me even if she wanted to," Dumbledore added.

Snape kept his eyes down submissively.

"I'll inform you of our first meeting in due time," said Dumbledore in a calmer voice.

"Fine," Snape spat through clenched teeth. He stood up quickly and strode to the fireplace, furiously tossing a handful of Floo Powder into the hearth. He murmured his destination and disappeared among the green flames without a backward glance.

As soon as he was gone Albina breathed a sigh of relief.

"I know he has a good reason to be mad at me, but is he always in such a good mood?" she asked Dumbledore.

"I've seen him worse," he said, his eyes remaining serious.

"I'm sorry," said Albina sincerely. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"I..." She sighed. She didn't know if she should tell Dumbledore how she learned of the Entrancement in the first place.

"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted her.

"I don't remember learning about this particular Entrancement," she told him cautiously. "In fact, I believe I haven't used it before— No, wait, I have used it once before..."

She suddenly remembered the drunken man that had harassed her when she first arrived to Hogsmeade via Floo. At that time she thought she knew the Entrancement; she thought it was a simple Trance Charm. Then she remembered other similar occasions. For example, how did she know the incantation for the Obliteration Charm that erased footprints in the snow? She paled and gasped while covering her mouth.

"I didn't even notice it lately…" she murmured and swallowed a lump in her throat. "I had other stuff on my mind, but I should have noticed it. These things happened to me a few times before. It's because of Kovran."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and regarded her attentively. "I see," he murmured.

"I can sometimes pick up a wand and perform a spell I've never even heard of," she told him gravely. "You know, it was extremely easy for me to become an Animagus because _he _is also an Animagus. It was all there, like I've known how to do it all along."

"Curious. You share a rather unique connection with Kovran."

"Not that unique as I thought. It's the same with Harry, isn't it?"

Dumbledore leaned his head slightly to one side. "It is probably quite similar. Now, tell me, do these intrusions to your mind happen often?"

Albina shook her head. "Not really. I think I can keep him out, and it's easier since he's been Obliviated."

"How do you keep him out?"

Albina shrugged. "It's difficult to explain."

"You already told me that you can make it go blank inside your head. I suspect you don't even realize what you're doing," said Dumbledore and leaned forward in his chair. "Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"

"Didn't Professor Snape mention it before?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. He practices Occlumency and is rather good at it, I must say."

"Well, I have no idea what it is."

"It's a branch of Mind Magic. A technique to shield one's mind from intrusion, from the opposite technique called Legilimency. Mind reading," he explained.

Albina quickly put two and two together. "So, you think I'm doing Occlumency without even realizing?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "You're Occluding, yes. I suspect you're a natural Occlumens. But I don't know how effective this technique is in your condition. I'd like to find out soon, if you'd be willing. If there is a similar mind connection between Voldemort and Harry, it could prove to be extremely dangerous when Voldemort grows stronger and becomes aware of it. Let us hope he never does. Meanwhile you can help me determine the nature of such connection and find the best way to protect Harry from it."

"Of course, yes, I'll do anything," Albina said fervently, her eyes growing big.

This was why she came here, and she suddenly felt a warm feeling of fulfilment in her chest. After the incident with the Potions Master it was quite a relief to know that she did _something_ right.

"Good. But first you need to sort things out with Severus. That should be a priority for the time being. How long do you think you'll need to learn the counter-spell?"

"I don't know. Maybe a week?"

"Alright. Let me know by Friday if it would be possible to schedule the first session on Sunday. I'll send word with Fawkes; it will be much quicker than by owls. You may take the book with you, of course," said Dumbledore when he noticed she was trying to put it back on his desk.

Fawkes promptly took Albuna back to the Flamel Manor. They appeared in the middle of the foyer. With a gush of golden flames the bird was gone. Immersed in her thoughts Albina slowly ascended the wide wooden staircase, clutching the large volume in her arms.

When she got to her room, hooting and scratching heard outside the window alerted her to the fact that her barn owl Alba had finally found her. She threw the heavy volume she had been holding on her bed and hurried to open the sash window. But it was large and heavy and apparently stuck. She couldn't pull it up so she took out her hawthorn wand and brandished it without much thinking.

_"Tollo!"_

There was a blast and Albina was thrown backwards. She landed on the rug with a loud thud. Before she had time to comprehend what had just happened, there was a knock on her door and Madam Flamel entered with her wand drawn. She glanced around the room until her eyes found Albina lying on the floor.

"Miss Gray, are you alright?" she asked, her face wrinkled with worry.

"I'm fine, thanks. It's just— My wand backfired on me again."

With a grunt Albina slowly got up and rubbed her behind in embarrassment.

"I should get used to it by now..." she murmured and glanced at the volatile hawthorn wand. She preferred it to Kovran's wand, there was no doubt about it, but she was slowly getting tired of all the little accidents. She wasn't entirely sure the problem was with the wand. She was rather inept with magic anyhow due to lack of practical experience. Thankfully her spells weren't really powerful and couldn't do much damage. Or could they? Apparently she managed to cause quite a lot of damage to the Potions Master.

"Do you require any assistance?" Madame Flamel asked her.

"No, thank you. I'm fine. Just a bit sore, but nothing broken," said Albina politely and smiled kindly to the ancient woman while she stretched her back to check that everything was as before. "Could you help me with the window maybe?"

Madame Flamel raised her white brows, but then she saw the barn owl fluttering outside and understood. "You were trying to open dze window widz a spell?" she asked in her slow, clear voice.

"Yes."

"What was dze spell you tried to use?"

"It was _Tollo_, a simple Lifting Spell," Albina told her.

"Perhaps you should try _Adtollo_. It is more accurate and more appropriate for dze occasion since dze object you were trying to lift is secured in place," Madame Flamel educated her. She showed her how it was supposed to be done. She demonstrated it on the book that was lying atop Albina's bed. Then it was Albina's turn to try it on the window. At first nothing happened and on the next attempt the window only jumped up and down a little. Albina sighed in frustration and pulled Kovran's wand out of her sleeve. This time the window slid up smoothly and Alba could finally fly in.

"Hey girl, how was your flight?" Albina greeted her.

Alba squeaked and hooted, made a wide circle around the room – undoubtedly to check the new surroundings – before landing gracefully atop the French armchair by the fireplace.

"Glad to hear that. What do you think of my new room?"

Alba hooted and turned away as if something offended her.

"Alright, alright, it's _our_ room," said Albina and rolled her eyes. "And could you please find a more suitable place to perch? I don't think Madame Flamel will appreciate having her furniture all scratched by your claws. We're guests here, you know," said Albina and smiled apologetically to Madame Flamel.

Alba took flight and set herself atop her cage in the corner, trying to look imposing in her injured vanity. Albina knew though, that Alba thoroughly enjoyed her new surroundings. For an owl she was quite conceited and thought highly of herself. Albina was quite certain that Alba resented her for not providing her with a golden cage and a golden perch. Alba had taught Albina a valuable lesson, though – never to fall for the looks only again; at least not with owls.

Madame Flamel was now leaning curiously over the bed to read the title of the book on top of it, her long white plait of hair sliding over one of her shoulders.

"Interesting read?"

"Well... um, Dumbledore gave it to me. I have to study it to be able to— It's a long story," Albina mumbled and scratched her head embarrassedly. "I need to learn how to properly cancel an Entrancement in a week."

"I see," said Madame Flamel. "If you require any 'elp, you are welcome to ask me, dzough I am not an expert in dzis area. You are also welcome to study in dze library below," Madame Flamel offered her kindly.

"That would be great," said Albina. She wasted no time and followed Madame Flamel downstairs into the extensive library, taking the book that Dumbledore gave her with her.

The library was packed with books as most libraries usually are. Every available wall was adorned with a tall bookshelf that reached to the ceiling. Clearly over time that wasn't enough since two tall bookcases stood independently on either ends of the rather long room, both completely packed with books.

A fire was lit in the fireplace. There still wasn't enough light to be able to read though, so with a flick of her wand Madame Flamel lit what looked like a paraffin lamp placed on a tall round desk in the middle of the library. Then she told Albina she was welcome to study in the library whenever she liked. Before Albina could start reading however, they were interrupted by Fidele, who announced in a squeaky voice that dinner was ready.

After an enjoyable meal Albina returned to the library while Madame Flamel disappeared somewhere in the house. The heavy book was waiting for her on the desk where she had left it. It was quite thick and obviously, because of the topic discussed, had no illustrations. Albina hated books that had no illustrations. To her a picture was worth a thousand words. Not that she didn't like reading books; it was the simple fact that literature and educational books were two completely different things. On top of it the book was most boringly entitled _Entrancing and Enchanting the Mind: A Guide to Basic Principles with Emphasis on Preventative, Defensive and Remedial Techniques._ The title alone made her yawn, but she had to put things right, so she sat down in the French armchair and opened.

Albina had been studying the instructions and practicing wand movements for the whole week. But the first time she'd be able to use and see if it worked, would be on Professor Snape. She obviously couldn't practice on anyone else; it would be rather pointless to try to remove an Entrancement from someone who wasn't even put under it.

Madame Flamel gave her some advice on wand movements, but otherwise the woman was still rather distant, quiet and keeping to herself. Or perhaps she just wasn't a very talkative type, and since Albina wasn't either, their time together was mostly spent in silence.

When Friday finally came closer Albina panicked and told Dumbledore that she wasn't ready yet and that she needed another week. She really didn't want to mess up things twice. That was what she wrote on the piece of parchment delivered by Fawkes. The phoenix promptly took it and after a minute or so he was back with Dumbledore's response, saying that he understood and that the meeting shall be postponed. She petted Fawkes and he let out a soft cry of appreciation before he disappeared again in a gush of golden flames.

After dinner on Friday evening Albina joined Madame Flamel in the library, which was an often occurrence lately. This time Madame Flamel was shuffling through newspapers. The woman was taking many papers and journals; she obviously wanted to be well informed.

Albina asked if she could have a look at this week's editions. She shuffled through the stack and pulled out Monday's edition of Daily Prophet. Immediately something caught her eye.

"Hey, I've seen this giant before," she murmured and showed the picture to Madame Flamel.

"He is not a giant," said Madame Perenelle stiffly. "He is a 'alf-giant."

"A half-giant? Really? How is that even possible? Ah, wait, I think I don't want to know..." she murmured, her face grimacing at the silly thought. She continued to read the article, her eyes darkening line by line. Madame Flamel observed her carefully.

"Aha – Rita Skeeter. That makes sense," Albina murmured when she finished the article and put down the newspaper. "People don't actually believe this rubbish, do they?"

"I 'ave witnessed many dzings in my life, yet I am still amazed by all dze dzings people believe," said Madame Flamel darkly. "You do not believe what dzat woman 'as written about giants?"

Albina shrugged. "I don't know much about them." A tiny smile then spread over her lips. "In my country giants are long extinct, but we have stories and legends about them. There is this famous legend about a girl giant who helped people. When she died, her face was forever carved into a mountain," she told Madam Flamel. "There are other legends, saying that giants were our ancestors. Some stories are quite mean actually, saying that the giants were big and stupid, but with each generation they become smaller in body but greater in mind, and so the human race came about." Albina pulled one of the corners of her mouth up. "Funny, we have mean stories about giants, but no stories about mean giants."

"So you do not dzink dzat giants are blood-dzirsty beasts?"

Albina shrugged. "I don't know what they are, but I have a pretty good idea what he is, and I only needed to see him once to understand that," she said firmly, gesturing towards the picture of the half-giant named Rubeus Hagrid. She clearly remembered seeing him in the rose garden, having a private moment with a woman that must have been a half-giant, too. "Besides, the Headmaster isn't stupid. He wouldn't have hired him if he were dangerous," she added.

Madame Flamel regarded her attentively and said, "You are quite an unusual witch."

"I've heard that before," Albina murmured. "And please, call me Albina," she said and smiled, but then her smile suddenly faltered. "What exactly did Dumbledore tell you about me?"

Madame Flamel looked up, her face suddenly looking terrifyingly stern and serious. "He told me he made dze Unbreakable Vow widz you."

"You want to know what it is about, don't you?"

The younger and the older woman looked at each other motionlessly, until the older one spoke slowly, "I would like you to trust me, but I know dzere are dzings one simply cannot trust anyone widz."

"I cannot tell you," Albina said firmly.

"I understand dzat. Trudz is not always dze best dzing. I know what is like to guard a secret. My 'usband and I 'ave 'ad plenty of experience in dzat regard," she assured her and smiled encouragingly. Albina suddenly felt much closer to the older woman.

From that evening on they would regularly engage in a conversation while they were in the library together. Madame Flamel was an inexhaustible source of interesting stories, facts and anecdotes. She told Albina of the old times and how they struggled with her late husband to keep the Philosopher's Stone out of sight. Apparently it involved bribing quite a number of goblins to keep it hidden in one of the vaults of Gringotts. They thought it was hidden in the safest place possible, but then Voldemort came; it didn't surprise Albina that the Flamels were also one of those who weren't afraid of the name that Tom Riddle fashioned for himself. They knew he was after their Great Work – he first attempted to break into the manor, thinking they had the Stone there. Then word came that one of the goblins who knew what was hidden in their vault, died for no apparent reason. The Flamels of course knew better. So they entrusted the Stone to Dumbledore. But in the end even that wasn't enough.

With all those stories from Madame Flamel another week went by sooner than Albina would have wished. This time there was no excuse. She had to face the Potions Master. She perused the instructions in the book one last time just to be sure and repeated the wand movements. She felt like she was in school again; like she was going to take a particularly nasty exam. Finally she put the book under her elbow and let Fidele take her to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had expected her and promptly called Professor Snape. He came through the fireplace again, clad in his usual black robes, while Albina placed the book on Enchanting Entrancements back on the desk.

"So now you're finally ready?" Snape said rudely without greeting her. It was still a progress from how he had greeted her the last time they've met.

"I am," she said stiffly. She slowly pulled Kovran's wand out of her sleeve. She wasn't going to leave anything to chance. She just simply couldn't trust her hawthorn wand.

Snape eyed Kovran's wand – the same wand she used when she attacked him. Even to an untrained eye it was obvious that it wasn't made by Ollivander.

"Gregorovich?"

"Sorry?"

"The wand," said Snape.

"Oh. Yes, it was made by him."

She looked at the wand that gave her the scar with disgust. It worked quite well, though; even too well lately. That was not the problem. She had tried every other available wand in her country but none would work for her properly. They just didn't feel right and she simply couldn't command them. Novak then gave her Kovran's wand and it worked perfectly.

"Shall we proceed?" Dumbledore suggested.

Albina turned to the Headmaster. "I'd like to try something first. Perhaps a simple Cancel Spell might do the trick," she explained to the two wizards. "It might not eliminate the Enchantment, but it could loosen it up a bit for starters. I think it's worth trying."

"It cannot do much harm, so go ahead," said Dumbledore encouragingly. The Potions Master didn't say anything; he simply stood in front of her in an intimidating posture.

Albina filled her lungs and lifted her arms. _"Incantementum Retexui!"_ she demanded, flourishing her wand gracefully in front of his tall figure. Obviously nothing happened, at least nothing visible. Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Is that even a real spell?" he said mockingly.

"Of course it is! We use it all the time in my country!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"What's wrong with _Finite Incantatem_? Too advanced for you people?" he snarled mockingly.

After almost two stressful weeks that was finally over the top for Albina.

"It's pronounced _Fee-NEE-teh In-cahn-TAH-tehm_! Urgh! You English and your quasi-Latin spells! You don't even bother to pronounce it correctly, chewing all the Rs, and all those OIs and EHWs and EEs and OWs of yours that are making my jaw hurt!"

"At least we're not useless like Italians, fond of pompous wand waving and boisterous incantations, both completely wasted and futile!"

"Trust me, I'm not an Italian. You'd notice it right away if I were!"

"What's your excuse then?"

"Urgh! Let's just do this and be over with it!" she growled and furiously pointed Kovran's wand straight at Snape's forehead. However, he ducked and pulled out his own wand in a defensive move.

"You are not going to mess up my mind again," he growled warningly.

Albina could almost see the curse forming at the tip of his wand. Her instincts took over – or was it something else? She ducked sideways and the curse that Snape shot at her only grazed her hair. A smell of coal and burnt hair filled her nostrils. She didn't know what the curse was; it was cast nonverbally, but either way she felt threatened for a good reason. She felt a surge of anger and resentment, feelings not entirely foreign to her or without grounds, yet they didn't feel quite right. They didn't feel _hers_. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening or before she could react to the attack, the Headmaster suddenly intervened.

"Enough!" Dumbledore bellowed loudly. There was a loud low bang and both Albina's and Snape's wands flew high up, bounced off a bookcase behind the Headmaster's desk and finally loudly clinkered to the floor.

"I believe this meeting is over. Severus, if you will," Dumbledore said firmly and gestured towards the door. He still had his wand drawn. The air was hot with his intimidating power.

"Gladly," the Potions Master said and turned on his heels without bidding goodbye or bothering to search for his wand.

sss

_Next: Albina suffers the consequences of her connection with Kovran again._

_Please leave a review. Thanks!_


	10. Chapter 9: Veela Charm

_Previously: Albina tried to Disentrance Snape, but he attacked her. _

sss

VEELA CHARM

Albina stood motionlessly in the middle of the circular office. She could feel Kovran's presence inside of her mind. The scar above her heart throbbed with pain. Albina could feel it, yet at the same time it did not affect her. Nothing could affect her, nothing could hurt her and nothing mattered, because she simply wasn't there.

"Miss Gray! Are you alright?"

Dumbledore was standing in front of her, his wand still drawn. When or how he got there Albina didn't know. Where was the Potions Master? She didn't remember him leaving.

"Yes. I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely.

"I saw your eyes turning dark before becoming completely blank. I know what it must have meant."

Albina did not respond.

"Miss Gray, look at me," said the older wizard firmly.

Slowly she lifted her empty gaze and met Dumbledore's blue eyes.

"He was here," she whispered and sat down on a chair in a dreamy state.

"I know."

They were both silent for a while.

"Do you think he noticed?" Albina asked hoarsely.

"You mean Severus? No, I think not. He was much too busy trying to curse you."

"What was the spell that he tried to use on me?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled sadly. "It was a dark curse which could have hurt you badly. I apologize for not intervening sooner. I did not believe him capable of such things, especially not in my presence."

"It's alright. I believe I might have provoked him," she said, sounding completely unaffected.

"I believe the Entrancement he's under is clouding his judgement, so I implore you to forgive him."

"I put him under that Entrancement."

"True," Dumbledore said softly.

"I should have been able to keep Kovran out. I was just… distracted lately; ever since I saw Harry's scar, actually. Five months. He had five months of time to sneak back into my mind," Albina whispered and sat down with glassy eyes. "I've known about it, but I did nothing to stop it."

"I suspect Kovran made sure that you forgot about it. If I am correct, he can access your mind and – to a certain point – control it. If he's an accomplished Legilimens, he can read your mind, suggest to it, and make you more focused on other things to distract you. He is manipulating you."

"He tried to control me before. I know how it feels. At least I thought I knew…" She shivered at the thought that she couldn't really control Kovran and his intrusions like she had believed all this time.

Dumbledore sat in the chair opposite to her.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you do to keep him out."

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's different every time. I try to empty my mind, but it can be quite difficult," she explained and rubbed her tired eyes. "I can just… disappear sometimes. Forget I exist. Nothing can make me angry, nothing can hurt me. There's no I AM, just IT IS. Does that make any sense?"

"It makes sense to you. Every mind is different, and so are techniques for Occluding it. You must learn how to focus your mind shield without shutting yourself down, though. I will teach you."

"I'd like to learn how to do it properly."

"Clear your mind of all emotions. Think only rationally. Make it go blank inside your head, like a white sheet of paper. I think you're quite good at that already. The next stage is controlling your emotions, but not trying to completely supress it. I'm sure you already know that emotions cannot be completely suppressed anyhow. Some could be used as a shield also, especially if your attacker does not share them and does not understand them. In my personal experience, love is the most powerful of all, especially because it's slightly different each time and for each individual."

"No," she said slowly. "It's not love. It's grief." Her voice was firm. She knew what she was talking about.

Dumbledore regarded her sadly. "You are right. But grief comes out of love, out of the pain of the loss."

"I have lots of it then," she said bitterly. She shook her head and remained quiet as if she might have said too much.

Dumbledore quietly pondered something in his mind while Albina calmed down.

"Shall we go back to Flamel Manor?"

Albina nodded. Dumbledore handed her wand back and turned to Fawkes, asking the bird to take them to Flamel Manor. In a gush of flames and a pop they were gone and a moment later they reappeared in the middle of the foyer.

Madame Flamel came out of the library on their left to greet them. Upon catching Albina's puffy eyes and her damaged hair, her expression sobered.

"What 'appened?" she asked, her aged face wrinkled with worry.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding involving a dark curse," said Dumbledore curtly.

"Mon Dieu…" murmured Madame Flamel and ushered them across the foyer into to the cosy parlour where she asked Fidele to make them some calming lavender tea.

"What 'appened to your 'air?" Madame Flamel asked when Albina was finally seated in a French sofa with Fawkes perched behind her. Only then Albina noticed that half of the hair on the right side of her head was singed off by Snape's curse. It smelled rather badly, too.

"Oh no…" she whispered and tried to determine the whole extend of the damage.

Fawkes let out a soft cry, leaning his head forward over Albina's shoulder. She stoked his feathers affectionately.

"I think Fawkes has taken a liking to you," Dumbledore commented with twinkling eyes and stroked the phoenix affectionately himself.

"Or maybe he just liked my hair the way it was before," murmured Albina.

"Don't worry. We'll fix that right away," said Dumbledore and withdrew his wand. "If you'll allow me – I had to do this numerous times. My beard often has close encounters with burning candles or magical fires..."

"Please, Albus, let me," Madame Perenelle intervened. "We must first cut off dze damaged 'air. It is quite badly burnt by a dark curse. It cannot be undone. It will 'ave to be magically regrown."

"You're right, as always," said Dumbledore and lowered his wand. "I'll leave you ladies to it. You know such things better."

With a couple wand movements the damaged hair was cut off and replaced by a new length of healthy hair.

"Dzere you go. As good as new," Madame Flamel declared, satisfied with the result.

"Thank you," Albina smiled with relief and reached to touch her hair.

With a pop Fidele suddenly reappeared, carrying a tray with three large tea cups. After a few sips Albina was calmed down nicely.

Suddenly Madame Flamel put her cup down and excused herself, ambiguously saying she was going to search for something, and called Fidele to help her. When she came back she was holding a small but elaborately decorated gilt wooden box.

"I 'ave somedzing dzat will strengdzen your 'air. I 'ave no use for it any more."

"What is it?" Albina asked in surprise.

Madame Flamel put the wooden gilt box in her hands and told her to open it. Albina swung the lid open and widened her eyes. It held a collection of hair brushes of every possible colour – or rather of every possible material. There was a golden, silver, ebony, copper and a brown wooden hairbrush resting in black velvet. There was also a silver mirror and a comb in the collection, seven items in total, all elaborately decorated in floral relief.

"Dzis was a gift from a young French witch who was a 'alf-Veela. I 'aven't used it for decades…" murmured Madame Perenelle. "Dze brushes are charmed to make your 'air change colour according to the brush you choose."

"That is quite an elaborate charm," Dumbledore said admiringly.

Albina stared at the content of the wooden box wide-eyed. "I can't believe it," she whispered. "There was this book I used to read when I was a kid," she explained. "It was about a girl who comes to a lonely old wizard. He gives her a different dress to wear each day when she goes out into the city. She brushes her hair with a magical hairbrush and it changes colour according to the dress she wears that day. I used to love that story."

Albina stared at the brushes distractedly, immersed in the fond memory. "Can I try it now?" she requested and took out the golden hairbrush. Her hair slowly started to shine golden blonde and became as smooth as silk.

_"Cela me surprend…"_ murmured Madame Perenelle when she was finished, gazing at Albina's shiny golden hair. "Are you part Veela?"

Albina's head shot up in surprise. "Yes. My great-grandmother was a Veela. How did you know?"

"Dzese brushes were charmed by a 'alf-Veela. Dzey work best on part-Veela. Dzey enhance dze Veela Charm. See for yourself," said Madame Flamel and gestured towards the gilt wooden box. Albina took out the small hand mirror and gasped when she saw her mirror image.

"I look like my mother… Or even like my grandmother…" she whispered and admired her shiny golden hair in the reflection. It had a faint glowing quality, the unmistakable trait of a Veela. In fact, her whole face and pale complexion emitted a very faint glow. However, the longer she gazed at it, the more it faded away.

"It seems it doesn't last that long," Albina murmured and frowned. "Oh well, I'm only one-eight Veela anyway."

"You look lovely regardless," Dumbledore flattered her kindly. "I suspected you were part Veela the first time I saw you."

"Really? How did you know?"

"One can see it if one knows what to look for. Though it's not evident to an untrained eye, you've definitely inherited some Veela traits," he told her.

"I'm quite glad I didn't inherit more of them. If you only knew my mum – or my sister! Well, let's just say that they can be very temperamental," said Albina and grinned.

They finished their tea in a pleasurable atmosphere. Dumbledore then said goodnight, but not before informing Albina that he would be back this weekend to teach her Occlumency.

Albina finally went to sleep after a long and eventful day. As she entered the world of dreams she found herself in a small damp room.

_A food tray was set on the floor. It was cold, very cold, and she was shivering. It was confusing, there was a strange feeling in her stomach, and her head throbbed with pain. Except that it wasn't her head, it was his head. He was angry. He had been almost there… But she was strong. She kept pushing him out, kept closing the curtain, kept enveloping him in darkness and nothingness. But he was persistent. And the more he managed to get inside her mind, the more he knew who he was and what he wanted. It made him stronger, and next time – next time he knew he would be able to do more. He will make her come back to him. She was his, his possession, his creation. Together they were strong. He needed her and she needed him. They were bound together. They were one and they belonged together. He had to be careful, though. She knew now and there was only a matter of time before she would do something about it. _

Albina moaned in her sleep, turning around restlessly. When she woke up she had no recollection of the dream.

The next day was Saturday, and though usually Albina didn't have to work on Saturdays, this time she was required to help in the Hogsmeade store, because apparently Hogwarts students would be flooding the High Street. They had the so called 'Hogsmeade Weekend'.

As soon as she entered the store Mr Owen gaped at her and asked her what she did to her hair. She blushed and murmured something about a magical hairbrush she used this morning and quickly went to work, trying to ignore the looks her boss was giving her. She sincerely hoped she was just imagining it.

Albina greatly enjoyed that day at work nonetheless. Wooden radios, Compact Cameras, toothbrushes and various Muggle toys and games were obviously most popular that day. Mr Owen had made quite a profit compared to a normal business day. Albina gladly helped customers and gave advice, until late in the afternoon one particular customer entered the store.

"Why do we need a new camera, Bozo? The old one is perfectly fine."

"You're not the one carrying it around all the time! They have new ones, smaller and lighter."

"Oh, _fine_. But be quick about it. I'm gonna have a smoke outside," murmured the woman and exited on the High Street. Albina breathed a silent sigh of relief. The woman was none other than Rita Skeeter. She was wearing robes of shocking yellow colour. On top of it her long fingernails were painted bright pink.

Bozo was meanwhile busy looking at the cameras on display. Mr Owen offered him help, and they soon disappeared to the back of the store since Bozo understood quite a lot about cameras and wanted to know more. Albina didn't notice that Rita suddenly finished her cigarette and promptly entered the store to find her photographer.

"Hey, Bozo, come on, hurry up!" she said. Then her eyes rested on Albina's face and narrowed behind her jewelled spectacles, measuring her up and down with surprise.

"Well, look who we have here. None other than Miss Gray. Or should I say, Rose Green?"

Albina froze, her eyes growing big with surprise. "How do you know me?" she asked with disbelief.

"Let's just say that I have my sources."

Albina flinched as Bozo suddenly yelled from the back of the store, "I'll be out in a second, have another smoke or something."

"Let's take this outside," Albina murmured nervously and hurried out. She didn't want this conversation to be overheard. Luckily no one was out in the street; at least not close enough to be able to hear them. Her heart was pounding nervously in her ears as Rita joined her outside.

"Nice cover, by the way," Rita commented. "Working as an assistant in a Hogsmeade store… Brilliant! I do hope that you are not trying to steal my stories. Oh, how rude of me, I haven't even introduced myself—"

"I know who you are. Rita Skeeter, or should I say Big Green Bug?" Albina hissed boldly. She knew Rita Skeeter was an Animagus. She saw her talking to Harry after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Albina strongly suspected that few people knew about her ability. Since Rita threw her ace in the game right away, Albina decided to play highest cards as well.

Rita's eyes narrowed with fright. "How do you know _that_?"

Albina grinned. Her suspicions were proven right.

"Well, let's just say that I have my sources, too."

"Now, now, there's no need to be irrational," she said in a high voice. "We're both professionals, are we not? Colleagues, sisters so to speak—"

"How about a deal. I won't poke my nose into your stuff and you don't poke your nose into mine," Albina said confidently.

The woman regarded her attentively. "You know, I like you. You get straight to the point," she said and casually lit another extremely long and thin cigarette. Only now Albina noticed that the smoke had a slight rosy hue and smelled of cherry blossoms.

Albina rolled her eyes in annoyance. Then an idea dropped into her head. If the woman seemed to like her, there was no reason to become enemies with her. She certainly wouldn't have gained anything good out of it.

"Hey, I have something that might interest you," she said in a more friendly tone and pulled out her sketchbook where she had the interview with the Headmaster of Durmstrang. "Some time ago I interviewed Igor Karkaroff – I trust you know who he is."

"Of course I do," Rita said pompously.

"Well, I don't know what to do with it. You can have it, as a sign of good will. You can use it however you like. No need to mention my name," Albina said hurriedly and tore the pages with the interview out of the spiral-bound sketchbook. Rita took it and skimmed through it while lazily puffing smoke out of her heavily made up pink lips.

"Bah, that's old stuff, too boring."

Albina shrugged. "Then throw it away. I just thought – you of all people should be able to pull something out of it. You really have a knack for it. I never seem to be able to give it that… extra punch."

"Yeah, I can see. You should get a Quick-Quotes Quill," Rita advised, still distractedly skimming through Albina's interview. "Oh, but it's not so bad, this might be useful after all. How much do you want for it?"

Albina didn't expect Rita to ask anything in exchange, but supposed it was just an added bonus. "How about a friendly favour for another friendly favour? If I need it, I'll contact you."

"Fair enough," said Rita and extinguished the cigarette butt. In that moment Bozo exited the store.

"Done with the shopping, Bozo? Let's go to the Three Broomsticks. I just saw Harry Potter enter it moments ago. Nice chatting with you, darling. Love your hair by the way. Cheerio!" she said to Albina and waved to her.

The reporter and her photographer turned and headed towards the Three Broomsticks while Albina gazed after them distractedly. She didn't see Harry enter the Three Broomsticks; Rita must have seen him before Albina went out the store.

Albina was very worried. Her shoulder started to prickle uncomfortably, but she ignored it. How did Rita discover her secret? Obviously someone must have told her. She said she had her _sources_. The prime suspect was of course the Potions Master. No one else was around then, was there? Albina gritted her teeth resentfully. Like he hadn't done enough to her already. She'd get him back for this, oh yes she would!

The whole thing suddenly reminded her that Dumbledore hadn't talked to her yet about why Harry was participating in the Triwizard Tournament. She made a mental note to ask him tomorrow when he'd come to give her Occlumency lessons.

She finished her work at five and headed to the Three Broomsticks, hoping that Harry might still be there. Hogsmeade was still full of Hogwarts students after all. The next encounter was not what she had been expecting, though.

A tall shadow emerged between the houses and followed her to the Three Broomsticks. Albina didn't notice it; there were still a few people walking up and down the street anyway. She greeted Rosmerta and ordered a Butterbeer. She liked the drink a lot; they didn't have anything like it at home. She took this opportunity to look around the pub and establish if Harry was still there. She couldn't spot the boy anywhere in the crowd, though, but she did notice the student couple who thought they'd caught her and Snape kissing in the rose garden. Of course they couldn't have been further from the truth.

The boy and the girl were wearing green school uniforms. She remembered the boy's name was Bowen – it was what Snape had called him. They were both looking in her direction now, obviously snickering. She couldn't understand why at first. They must have simply recognized her and thought it funny.

"What did you do to your hair?" Rosmerta asked her when she placed a tankard of sizzling hot liquid in front of her.

"What do you mean?"

"No offence, but it's usually all over the place. I want to know your secret. Out with it."

"I just brushed it… With a magical brush. That's all."

"It really suits you," Rosmerta complimented her. "Hey, how come you're not using my fireplace anymore? Did you finally learn how to Apparate?"

"Er… no, actually, I'm staying with a very nice old lady, who let me borrow her house-elf. She's a bit of a safety freak and doesn't like the Floo connection," Albina said inventively.

"You're side-apparating with a house-elf? Really? Oh, you poor thing – I mean, I'd never even think of that!"

Albina frowned, wondering if Side-Apparition with a house-elf was considered embarrassing. Immersed in thoughts she didn't notice at first who was sitting beside her; she was busy drinking the Butterbeer and observing the crowd, her wide grey eyes searching for Harry. But then Rosmerta addressed the tall dark man beside her by his name.

"What can I get you, Professor Snape?"

Albina froze in her seat. That was probably why those two Slytherin students were snickering at her! Most likely they thought she was on a second date with their Professor! Oh joy! She stubbornly stared at her glass, not wishing to acknowledge the man beside her in any way.

"Firewhiskey will do," said Snape stiffly while Albina tried to finish her drink quickly. But she just got it and she couldn't engulf the whole pint in a single gulp. The drink was still rather hot.

With a clink Rosmerta placed Professor Snape's order in front of him. He didn't say a thing. Albina thought that perhaps he hadn't noticed her. He didn't touch his glass either. Albina quickly took another deep swig despite the fact that the hot liquid burned her tongue and throat. She didn't care; she wanted to get out and call for Fidele as soon as possible.

"Miss Gray, I came to apologize," Snape suddenly murmured. "I would like to—"

"Not interested," she hissed and pulled out three Sickles to pay for the drink and get out fast. However, Snape grabbed her by her forearm and tried to make her stay.

"I need—"

"Let me go," she growled through clenched teeth, but Snape was still holding her arm. "I'll scream," Albina threatened. "I'm not joking. It will be highly embarrassing for both of us."

The effect was predictable – Snape regarded her quizzically, clearly unable to decide whether she was being serious.

"Excuse me," she said more loudly and Snape finally let go of her as if she had burnt him.

"'Bye Rosmerta," she called out and exited the Three Broomsticks as if nothing had happened, though her insides were bubbling with inexplicable rage. She wanted to get away from Snape as quickly as possible.

Her shoulder throbbed with searing hot pain as if someone pressed a white-hot poker to it. She didn't notice that the ground beneath her feet became hot with magic, causing the dirty frozen sludge that used to be snow at some point in history, to melt almost instantly.

Suddenly Albina felt quite confident in her ability to Apparate. All the knowledge and the memories were there, clear as a bright day. _She knew how to Apparate anyway._ It was true, her mentor had taught her, and she had tried it a couple of times over short distances. She just couldn't stand it.

Without thinking much, she promptly Disapparated.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she gasped in astonishment. How the hell did she suddenly feel so comfortable about Apparating? And at such long distances! She stared down the familiar country lane where she had Apparated to once before with Dumbledore.

She could vaguely feel the after-effects of the travel. Though it could be just the fact that her stomach was full of sizzling Butterbeer. Thankfully it wasn't enough to make her be sick all over the brambles again. She must have gotten used to Apparating regularly with Fidele.

She started to realize where this newfound ability was coming from. Kovran had just entered her mind again. Albina quickly burst into a dove while her two wands clinkered to the ground carelessly, and soared up into the evening dusk, trying to escape from it all.

It was so much simpler to have an animal mind. The emotions were much less complex. She was soon freed from Kovran's influence; it was just her and her free will again.

Her bird mind decided to fly to the sea. She reached the tall cliffs and landed softly on top, transforming back into her human self. Emotions came pouring down upon her again, threatening to overwhelm her heart. She wanted to escape it. She slowly looked down. The dark depth was inviting. It was calling to her. Without hesitation she boldly jumped off the high cliff.

sss

_Next: Albina receives a letter from Snape._

_Please leave a review. Thank you!_


	11. Chapter 10: The Letter of Apology

_Previously: Kovran tried to control Albina through their connection._

sss

THE LETTER OF APOLOGY

The feeling of falling down freely with nothing to stop her was intoxicating. It was as if her heart grew wings and flew out her chest, finally able to be free again.

As always, slightly before she would have reached the bottom, her instincts took over. Her outstretched hands became wings and she soared up towards the dark sky.

It was not the first time she had done something like this. From time to time she couldn't help but to explode with all the pent up frustration. She had to let it out occasionally after trying so hard to be completely detached and emotionless. She had to let it all out in order to reset her mind, to be able to accept what had happened and to test her determination. Then, with newly found strength, she could move on as if nothing ever happened, like everything was back to normal.

She remained in her dove form for quite a while. Kovran could not reach her when she was a dove. She flew along the coast and then landed atop the high cliff again, changing back into human. She tried to compose herself. She stood at the edge motionlessly, gazing upwards, her pale face shining in the moonlight. It was quiet; even the waves seemed to stop surging against the shore. Albina could only hear her own voice inside her head.

_Never lose control. Never doubt yourself. Never despair. _Those were the rules she had made for herself.

She was a strong, self-sufficient individual. She will not let Kovran – or anyone else – get to her. There was nothing she couldn't handle. She will keep Kovran out and be in complete control of herself once more. And she won't let anyone upset her like this ever again, much less an unpleasant Hogwarts Potions Master.

She transformed into a dove again to clear her mind and remain warm in the chilly night. She remained like this for a very long time. The moon was already high up in the sky when Albina heard a faint rustle of a cloak next to her. She knew who it was just by catching a glimpse of the long fabric strewn with tiny silver stars.

Dumbledore didn't say a thing at first. He waited for her to transform back into her human self.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine," she whispered. "It was Kovran again."

"Clear your mind. Think only rationally. Don't allow him to do this to you," he advised softly.

"I'm alright now," she told him calmly. "He can't reach me when I'm a bird. My mind becomes too simple, I suppose."

"I found this," Dumbledore said and returned the two wands she had dropped before changing into a dove. She murmured her thanks and placed them back under her sleeves. Kovran's wand was very long and it usually poked out if she wasn't careful – like Kovran's Horcrux. She'd have to be much more cautious from now on, she told herself sternly.

"I am worried about you," Dumbledore said softly. "What happened exactly? Why have you come here?"

Albina explained how Kovran sneaked into her mind and how she tried to escape his influence.

"He hadn't been able to get in like this since the last time he had been Obliviated," she murmured worriedly. She was a bit scared, too, scared of not being able to control him like she believed she could. No matter, she would just have to be more careful, that was all, she told herself confidently. _Never lose control. Never doubt yourself. Never despair._

"Had something similar happened before? Did he have to be Obliviated more than once?"

"Yes, he had been Obliviated once before. I had been experimenting when I wanted to learn how to become an Animagus," she admitted in a small voice. "I had triggered the connection on purpose then, trying to access his knowledge and experience," she murmured.

"You must be very cautious. You shouldn't try to trigger the connection on purpose, no matter the reason."

"Yes, of course," Albina said quietly. She felt like a child being scolded, but she knew she deserved it all. She should have been more aware of what was happening.

"I'd recommend using your Animagus form more often, now that I know it can keep Kovran out. Perhaps you should try sleeping as a dove. That is when your mind is most relaxed and most vulnerable to intrusions."

Albina nodded. "I've never tried it before, but I'll give it a go."

Dumbledore suggested they should Apparate to the front gate and get some more of that delicious lavender tea before heading into bed. He offered her his elbow but she shook her head, saying she wanted to Apparate on her own.

She closed her eyes and recalled the feeling. She was not afraid of it any more. She Disapparated with ease as if she had known how to do it perfectly all along. She felt no sickness either. Apparently something useful came out of this whole ordeal.

Madame Flamel and Fidele were both waiting for them anxiously. Dumbledore told Madame Flamel that everything was in order, reached into his pockets and handed her what looked like a small brass tube – it was a spyglass. Albina eyed it curiously.

"It was how we were able to find you," Dumbledore explained curtly upon catching her questioning look. Madame Flamel quickly put the object away in one of her pockets and Albina soon forgot about it.

They went into the parlour to have a cup of calming lavender tea like the day before. Fawkes was there too, perched sleepily atop the mantelpiece.

Despite the late hour Dumbledore then asked Albina to have a private word in the library to discuss Occlumency. Once they were alone he asked her to explain exactly what had happened before Kovran took over her mind again. She told him she had met Professor Snape at the Three Broomsticks. The encounter had made her inexplicably angry, which resulted in Kovran's intrusion in her mind.

"Did you tell Professor Snape to find me and apologize to me?" she asked Dumbledore after she finished with the whole story.

"I had a very serious conversation with him and told him he should apologize, but I didn't tell him anything specific."

"I don't wish to see him again, at least not anytime soon," Albina said firmly.

"That is entirely up to you. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, but I told him I refuse to be his mediator this time. He had his chance and he wasted it," Dumbledore said firmly. "Why were you so angry when you saw him? Did he try to hurt you again?"

"No, he just wanted to apologize, but I would have none of it. I was very angry at him. Maybe that was what woke the connection with Kovran, especially because he's also angry with him for trying to curse my head off. Kovran can be very protective of me, as I'm sure you can imagine," Albina explained.

"Try to control your emotions and empty your mind like we've discussed. It would be a good idea to sleep in your Animagus form tonight to avoid further intrusions to your mind. I'll come back tomorrow and we'll start practicing Occlumency."

Dumbledore wished her good night and called for Fawkes who took him straight back to Hogwarts in a golden gush of flames.

Albina climbed the stairs and went into her room, thinking about Snape. She was still rather angry at the man. Even if he really wanted to apologize, she wouldn't make it easy for him. If he was really sorry for what he did, he'd have to put some additional effort into it. It was partially his fault that Kovran possessed her mind twice in a row, for which she didn't feel particularly forgiving at the moment.

She had to control her emotions, though. She wasn't upset or angry, she told herself firmly. Of course not. There was nothing to be upset about, nothing to be angry for. She just wanted to teach the Potions Master a lesson, that was all. A bit of revenge wouldn't hurt either. Oh yes, her temperamental Veela side could come out from time to time, and together with Kovran it could be a dangerous combination.

As per Dumbledore's suggestion she changed into a dove, perched herself atop the French armchair, tucked her head behind her wing and fell asleep.

Next day Dumbledore came to give her first Occlumency lessons. She also went to find a telephone box in the nearby village to phone Perun Novak about Obliviating Kovran again. Like most Carniolans, Novak lived in a Muggle house, so Muggle inventions were not a mystery to him. She also took the opportunity to phone her family and let them know she was doing alright.

When Albina returned to the Manor, she was much less distressed than before. Perun had told her that they would Obliviate Kovran right away, so the man won't even know his name. He chided her for not calling him sooner, though, and expressed his worries about the fact that Kovran was able to regain his memories again, despite being thoroughly Obliviated twice before. Perun told her that this was highly unusual. Obliviating was usually permanent, he told her. He suspected it had something to do with their mind connection.

This troubled Albina greatly. How can they be sure that Obliviating worked on Kovran at all? Perhaps, because of the connection, he was somehow resilient to it. Perun told her they would have to be extremely careful about it, yet at the same time he assured her there was a simple solution to the problem. He told her they could simply start Obliviating Kovran regularly, so she shouldn't worry too much about it.

Her mentor was curious about her wellbeing and asked her how she was doing and where she was staying at. She told him she was staying with a nice old lady named Mrs White who let her a room for a really small price and in exchange for some company and help around the house. It was what Dumbledore had said she should tell anyone who asked. It was the same story she told her family.

Perun had also told her over the phone that he had sent her his owl Adria a couple of days before, but since she had called him he could tell her of his plans earlier. He was planning to visit London because one of his books had been translated into English. He had to arrange all the final details with the British publishers. He also wanted to see how she was doing. They arranged a meeting at the Leaky Cauldron, and she was already looking forward to it. Except for a few telephone calls and letters, she had little contact with her community since she came to Britain at the end of November.

Unlike Novak, Dumbledore was very worried about Kovran, and he ordered her to do the mental exercises he showed her regularly. There were several techniques for emptying one's mind, involving body postures and correct breathing. All in all it seemed more like meditation than Occlumency in Albina's opinion.

Dumbledore warned her about the difference between controlling and suppressing emotions.

"Do not drift into numbness and lack of presence," he told her sternly. "You might lose yourself completely or become emotionally numb, and that is the last thing we want. You need to know yourself well before you can control yourself."

At the end of the lesson Dumbledore questioned her about weird dreams and her scar hurting. Albina assured him that the dreams seemed quite normal, though she couldn't remember most of them anyhow. Her scar only really hurt the day before, when she had been quite angry. She told Dumbledore she was sure that the shared emotion was what made Kovran resurface, because she could feel Kovran was angry then, too. But either way, it didn't make much sense to her, because Kovran should have been oblivious to the connection in the first place.

Despite the differences, Kovran and his Horcrux were essentially the same soul, like two sides of the same coin, and would thus always tend to be drawn together, Dumbledore explained. The goal was to prevent that from happening, to keep her mind closed as much as possible, and try to be cool, collected and calm, even when being provoked. This was sometimes easier said than done. Despite her being only one-eight Veela, she still inherited a bit of the Veela temperament, and could sometimes, if she was being pushed too far, become very angry. Oh yes, sometimes she could be temperamental, stubborn and resentful; depending on the circumstances.

Dumbledore suggested she should start writing a diary about her connection with Kovran and try to determine the triggers that activated it. Albina already had a diary, or rather a sketchbook, but it never occurred to her to write down all the experience connected with her scar. She promised Dumbledore she would try to keep a detailed record of it from now on.

When the Occlumency lesson ended, Albina remembered that Dumbledore still hadn't told her anything about Harry's participation in the Triwizard Tournament. This time she wasn't going to forget about it again, so she confronted him about it.

Dumbledore sounded worried when he told her of the details, which only made Albina worry even more.

"And you still have no idea who could have Confunded the Goblet?" Albina asked him when he finished.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Do you think it was planned in advance or that whoever it was just seized the opportunity when it presented itself?"

"I think it was planned in advance. They knew exactly what they wanted to do, when they should do it and how they should do it. The trouble is, few knew about the Tournament before we announced it officially in the beginning of the school year."

"Who knew?"

"The Ministry and the participant schools of course. But beyond that I believe it was kept secret."

"So if it was planned, it must have been someone from the inside, someone who knew about it and had time to form a plan," Albina concluded logically.

"Yes. This is what bothers me greatly. I trust my staff. I know no one is capable of such a thing, at least not willingly."

Albina raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? Wasn't that Quirrel guy, who was possessed by Voldemort and tried to kill Harry in his first year at Hogwarts, one of your professors?"

Dumbledore chuckled and his eyes twinkled with mild embarrassment. "He was, but I never trusted him. I told Severus to keep an eye on him. I trust my current staff, though. However, there might be a possibility that there is an impostor among us. Someone pretending to be someone I trust. And whoever it is, he or she is being rather good at it, I'm afraid."

"I think you should first look at the most obvious place. Things are usually best hidden in plain sight. It is easy to miss something you're not looking for or usually pay no attention to. Similarly when you're busy looking for something you expect to find, you often miss other unexpected things," she told him smartly. "Whom do you trust most?"

"I suppose Minerva, Severus, Filius, Pomona, Hagrid and Alastor would make to the top of the list."

"And are any of them acting strangely?"

"Define strange," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Albina lifted her eyebrows and grinned. "Alright. Not their usual behaviour."

"Well, let's see," said Dumbledore and cleared his throat while adjusting his half-moon spectacles.

"Minerva is as strict and professional as usual. She can still transform into a tabby cat, so she's definitely who she says she is.

"Severus is as one-sided, sharp-tongued and bad-tempered as always. He still dislikes Gryffindor intensely and prefers to spend time in the dungeons, so he's definitely the same man I hired thirteen years ago."

Albina couldn't help but snicker wide-eyed at Dumbledore's bluntness, but he continued unaffectedly as if he was telling her how to make tea.

"Hagrid still loves all kinds of dangerous magical creatures. He's terrified of what people might think of him because he's a half-giant. His dog Fang follows him around faithfully, so I'd say he's still the same old Hagrid.

"Filius is as sharp and springy as his wand. His love for music and dancing is still unwavering. Pomona still loves plants and dirt, and I doubt anyone could impersonate her cheerfulness and her love for pumpkin pies. And Alastor is just as mad and moody as I remember him."

"Alright, so that's probably a dead end. Let's tackle the other end of the beast then. Tell me, whose idea was to reinstitute the Tournament in the first place?"

"The initiative came from the Ministry."

"Mhm. After all those years suddenly someone remembers about the Tournament, and conveniently enough, about the same time when Harry Potter is attending Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "Could be just a coincidence."

"I've recently started to believe there is no such thing as coincidence."

"You might be right. But are you aware of what you're suggesting? The Ministry would not touch the Boy Who Lived; he's still the symbol of victory and peace to them."

"I'm sure the official Ministry has nothing to do with it, but I'm also sure there are rotten eggs among Ministry workers."

"Oh yes, some stink rather badly, I must say."

"There you go. Whoever did it is probably somehow connected to the Ministry. Since the initiative came from within the Ministry, the chances are even higher. But I still don't understand what they're trying to achieve."

"It is clear that whoever did this knew that Harry has to participate in the Tournament while he isn't fully qualified for the tasks ahead. Though, I must say, he has always been a survivor. He proved to be rather good at the first task. Besides, he has faced mortal peril before."

Albina narrowed her eyes, her expression turning grim. "Do you think someone's trying to kill him?"

"I know Voldemort had tried to kill him three times before," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

"You think it's him this time, too?"

"I believe it has something to do with him, yes."

"But… Why bother with the Goblet and the Tournament? I mean, if someone infiltrated Hogwarts, why not kill Harry right away?"

"Perhaps they are afraid of getting caught, or doing it right under my nose. It would also be highly convenient if Harry's death was seen as a tragic accident. After all, very few believe that Voldemort is still out there."

"Yes, perhaps… But it doesn't make much sense. Whatever they're doing, they're already doing it right under your nose. And I don't think Voldemort would want Harry's death to be seen as an accident. He would want to take full credit for his archenemy's demise, don't you think? Besides, there are much easier ways of killing someone without anyone ever knowing who was behind it. Why go through all the trouble with the Tournament?"

"Perhaps the manner which they've chosen is important in some other way," Dumbledore suggested.

Albina pondered it in silence and tried to think outside the box, looking at it from every possible angle. It was something she picked up from her father who had a highly organized and analytical mind, a trait that wasn't foreign to her either.

"Maybe it has something to do with the tasks," she said slowly. "Maybe it's important when and where they're going to take place. Maybe it's also important who is there. Perhaps they need access – an excuse to lure Harry out in the open."

"You've made an excellent deduction. I suppose Voldemort would want him out in the open to finish what he started. He wants to kill him himself and take full credit for it, you are right about that. For now he is still too weak, but he's growing stronger. I am sure he has a plan. I wish I knew what it was – aside that it obviously involves killing Harry."

"Perhaps he not only wants to kill Harry, but also do it in front of an audience, to show everyone that he's back as powerful as before. Do you think that could be his plan?"

"It is possible."

"When is the second task scheduled?"

"On the 24th of February."

"I'll come, if I may."

"An extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt, though I'm afraid there won't be much to see anyhow. It will all take place underwater." Dumbledore paused, frowning. "Oh dear. I shouldn't have told you that."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"I'm sure you won't. Now, don't worry about Harry. I'll keep an eye on him. But you can still have a look around. Perhaps you'll be able to see something we've missed. I'll also speak to Merpeople and ask them to watch for anything suspicious underwater. Speaking of which, I should start practicing Mermish and order a stock of Linguopotion from your mentor, Mr Novak. I want to be sure I'll leave a good impression on them."

"You need Linguopotion? I have some; Novak just sent it to me right after New Year."

"Oh no, I couldn't take a gift intended for you."

"Are you sure? I'd be glad to give it to you."

"Yes. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Well, tell me if you change your mind. I don't want to use it anymore. It makes me way to reckless."

"Whenever I use it, I feel a strange urge to tell jokes."

"Really?" Albina laughed. "That's a rather mild side-effect."

"Depends if the jokes are good. For some strange reason I'm always the only one who finds them amusing."

"Well, apparently it makes _me_ act incredibly stupid around tall dark strangers with deep velvety voices," Albina said and blushed when she realized what she had just blurted out. "I suppose you already figured out that I used the Linguopotion when I first came to you," she explained hurriedly. "All the stupid things I did the next day weren't entirely my fault, you know. I'm still so ashamed about the whole thing with Professor Snape," she murmured and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with strange amusement.

"You know, I suspect it might be because you're part Veela that the Entrancement you put on Severus is so strong and resilient," Dumbledore told her.

"I didn't even think of that. But I'll still be able to completely remove it, won't I?" Albina asked worriedly.

"My guess would be, yes. I was under the impression, though, that you didn't want to see Severus again."

She shrugged. "Well, if he's truly sorry for what he did, I might reconsider it," she said simply.

After the lesson Madame Flamel joined them in the library. She and Dumbledore engaged in a conversation regarding the alchemical transmutation of metals, leaving Albina to shuffle through a book in Latin entitled _Declamatio de nobilitate et praecellentia foeminei sexus _by a fellow named Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim.

"Do you know how to read Latin?" Dumbledore asked all of a sudden, making her head lift alertly.

"Er… Not really. I know some phrases, a couple of words, and I know how to pronounce it, but not much beyond that. Words are very similar to most European languages though, so I can figure out the meaning sometimes," she murmured.

"Do you know what dze book is about?" asked Madame Perenelle.

"Declamation on nobility and … something … of women. I think."

"It is a book pronouncing dze moral and dzeological superiority of women," Madame Flamel explained.

"Really? Wow. I think I like this guy," said Albina and chuckled.

"Agrippa was a brilliant alchemist, but not a very likable character, I am afraid," said Madame Flamel.

"You knew him?" Albina asked incredulously.

Madame Flamel smiled and inclined her head in confirmation. "Yes. My 'usband and I both knew 'im."

"Wow. I mean— Wow. It's so easy to forget that you're so… "

"Old? It is alright, I am not offended by dze word. I 'ave been dze oldest person alive for about five 'undred years. My 'usband always remained younger dzan me," Madame Flamel explained unhurriedly. The ancient woman offered to teach her Latin, and Albina accepted it with enthusiasm. It would be another convenient way to keep her mind off things.

Towards the evening Dumbledore left, reminding her to constantly perform mind exercises that he had shown her. She practiced Occlumency regularly from them on. She was sleeping as a dove regularly to avoid having dreams she later wouldn't have remembered anyway, and it was slowly starting to show results. Since she was finally getting the much needed sleep, the dark circles under her eyes were starting to disappear slowly.

Now that she was able to Apparate on her own she didn't need Fidele anymore to transport her around. For some reason that upset the little creature greatly. She would trail behind Albina after breakfast on Monday morning, looking up at her fornlornly.

"Miss Gray doesn't want to Apparate with Fidele anymore?" she asked, her round chestnut eyes twinkling sadly.

"No, I just... er... I have to learn to be more independent. I can Apparate on my own now; it doesn't even make me sick anymore."

"But, Fidele is glad to be of service to Miss Gray!" she pipped.

"I know, thank you. And please, call me Albina."

"Did Fidele do something bad? Did she make Miss Albina feel sick?" the little house-elf asked, bending down her ears with dread.

"Of course not. You were very helpful," Albina assured her. This put Fidele in such a good mood that from then on she started packing Albina's lunch bags with treats such as chocolate, roasted pumpkin seeds, tiny home-made pumpkin tarts or fresh croissants with jam. Albina wouldn't mind having some dried pears either, but there was nothing left; Albina had already 'single-mouthedly' munched through the whole stack of home-grown dried fruit.

During the week Albina fell back into her old routine and tried to keep her calm and resolve, focusing on her surroundings as much as possible. It was her old technique for not having to deal with herself. Her job kept her mind occupied during the day anyway, but she tried to be devoid of emotions as best as she could, though sometimes that proved to be challenging. She couldn't just stop thinking and feeling altogether either, could she?

It was quite an eventful week at the store. Talking Toothbrushes were banned, because a few unfortunate Muggles almost had a heart attack while they were trying to brush their teeth. This caused Mr Kitcher and Mr Owen to become grumpy and irritable. They were constantly complaining to Albina about it during their lunch breaks.

In the evenings Madame Flamel started teaching Albina Latin little by little. She proved to be an exemplary student, and Madame Flamel complimented her on her talent for languages, making Albina swell with pride.

On Thursday a tawny owl delivered a letter to her while she was working at Hogsmeade store. At first she thought it was from Perun Novak, since he had told her over the phone that he had sent her his owl. But then she saw a scroll of parchment attached to the bird's legs and immediately knew the message was not from someone from her community. They all used metal letter tubes with scrolls of ordinary paper tucked inside to send messages. She thought it might be a message from Dumbledore, but he probably would have used his Phoenix Fawkes to deliver it.

The scroll was sealed with a wax seal, bearing the crest of the Slytherin House. She immediately recognized the snake symbol; she saw it in the book Tom had given her for Christmas, the heavy volume entitled _Hogwarts: A History_. She broke the seal and stared at the small cramped handwriting.

The initial letters were big and spiky and the scrawl was hard to read, though it looked neat if you squinted at it from afar. Clearly it was a work of a conceited person, a fast and perhaps rather hasty writer, whose mind was much faster than his hand would have allowed, but who couldn't care less if his handwriting caused readers trouble, and was rather pleased with seeing his own words on paper. She instantly knew who it was from and it warmed up her temper nicely. She pursed her lips, and wanted to crumple the parchment and incinerate it. But the curiosity got the best of her, so fumingly she started to decipher the words.

_Dear Miss Gray,_

_I must apologize to you for my appalling behaviour. I am deeply ashamed of what I almost did to you. I could have hurt you badly and for that I am truly sorry. I implore you to forgive me. Please consider coming to my office at Hogwarts for a meeting at the end of this week. I need the Entrancement you had put me under removed as soon as possible, for all our sakes._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape, M. Po.  
_

sss

_What did you think of the letter? _

_Please review. Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 11: Butterbeer and Firewhiskey

_Previously: Albina received Snape's letter of apology._

sss

BUTTERBEER AND FIREWHISKEY

Albina stared at the letter dumbstruck. She could read between the lines. He wasn't even remotely sorry for what he did to her; that much was clear. He _must _apologize? Who's forcing him? And he's sorry he _could_ have hurt her badly? Well, that could just mean he's sorry that he _didn't_ hurt her, though he very well could have! And what was that in the end, showing off his title of Master of Potions? Did he think he'd impress her with all this empty formalities?

There were just two words she wanted to write him back. Two very rude words. For a good measure she started scribbling all over his parchment, underlining and encircling few selected words vehemently to let him know that she understood it perfectly well.

But she didn't dare sending this kind of message back to him. It was inappropriate and juvenile. It was a good way to vent out her frustration, though. In her books _nothing_ justified the use of Dark Magic. She furiously folded the letter and stuffed it in her handbag, choosing to ignore it and hoping that he would eventually give up and simply wait for the Entrancement to wear off.

To take it off her mind she went for a long walk in Muggle London on Saturday. She wasn't alone – far from it. As usual the metropolis was bustling with people and activity. It almost felt as if she was simply a tourist on a vacation.

She sat on Trafalgar Square afterwards, observing the flocks of pigeons and few determined tourists trying to mount the lion statues, until her behind was all wet and cold. She headed back to the Wizarding world. It was time to set her wristwatch one hundred years backwards.

The winding cobbled street behind the Leaky Cauldron was nothing like the rest of London. A stack of cauldrons was set outside the nearest shop, offering discounts on pewter cauldrons of all standard sizes. Foul smells of rotten cabbage wafted from a nearby apothecary. Owls hooted excitedly in their cages as she passed Eyelop's Owl Emporium. The white-marble Gringotts was the only building she liked in the whole street. The rest of the houses were all shabby, crooked, with uneven peeling facades, giving the impression that they had never been designed and then built accordingly, but had rather just sprouted next to each other simultaneously like mushrooms after rain. Combined with cold and wet weather, the street was gloomy and depressing and it made Albina feel the same.

On Sunday the sun peaked from behind the clouds, giving Albina a reason to smile again. Dumbledore found her in a pleasant mood when he came to give her the next Occlumency lesson. They talked more about the connection and about Kovran. Dumbledore didn't mention Snape, and Albina was perfectly content with the arrangement. They spoke of her scar again. Dumbledore wanted to know if it was hurting her, even if it was just a tiny prickle. She told him that everything was in order and he was pleased to hear it. He told her that during the following lesson they would attempt to delve into her past, trying to determine what made her who she was.

"Know thyself. Know the working of your mind. That is the first rule to Occlumency," Dumbledore told her and gave her the task to write about herself.

She was distractedly gazing at a white sheet of paper in front of her, chewing her lips in thought. Did she know who or what she was? What was the difference between the two? Why did it matter anyway? It was a confusing and always-changing affair anyhow. It was so much easier to observe others and judge them than to deal with yourself.

"I would like you to share what you write with me. I realize it might be difficult to reveal it all to a virtual stranger—"

"No, actually, sometimes it can be easier than telling it to a friend or a family member."

"Good. I would like you to reveal me as much as possible before we try practicing Occlumency for real. I want you to feel comfortable with me when I try to dive into your mind."

Albina frowned. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"In order to be successful at Occlumency one must practice. We must cover the basics and the theory before I try to use Legilimency on you and you attempt to block me by utilising Occlumency shields," Dumbledore explained calmly.

Albina paled. "You are going to try to _read my mind_?" she whispered with dread. She didn't like the idea at all; she detested all kinds of Mind Magic that toyed with privacy, memories and free will. These things were holy to her, property of no one else but their original owner.

"Miss Gray, what do you think Kovran has been doing all this time? He's been reading your mind, manipulating it even. Who knows what else he could do in the future. We need to establish if Occlumency can successfully block his intrusions, but you must master Occlumency first. I suspect you already are a natural Occlumens. That is why I gave you the task of writing about yourself. I want you to determine what made you a natural Occlumens. I want you to know your strengths and weaknesses."

"I don't know if I can allow you to read my mind…" Albina murmured uncertainly.

"I realize it is a matter of trust. Do you trust me when I say that I will not abuse you or mistreat you in any way?"

"I guess… You seem to be kind enough. But, you know, I only trust you because you made the Unbreakable Vow with me."

"I realize trust must be earned. I propose another kind of vow: I will tell you some very personal things. You will tell me yours, and we will promise to guard each other's secrets," Dumbledore said casually. "What if I start first? I was born as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in the village of Mould-on-the-Wold in 1881."

"You must be joking!"

"No, that is my real name," he said serenely while his eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I meant about your age! You cannot possibly be... 113 years old! You look barely 80!" Albina exclaimed in disbelief.

"You flatter me. However, I have no reason to lie about my age. I will turn 114 in August."

"Wow. I want some of whatever you're taking!" Albina exclaimed.

Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "I admit I once took a sip of the Elixir of Life," he said in a low voice, his eyes sparkling good-naturedly. "I could say that it was purely for academic research, but that would have been a lie. I also wanted to know what it tasted like. Nicolas gave it to me secretly. I've never told anyone that I took it. Even Perenelle doesn't know anything about it and I implore you to keep it that way. Now, start with your essay," he told her and pointed at the blank sheet of paper.

When it was time for a tea break, Dumbledore made a revolving tea tray appear out of thin air with a casual flick of his wand. Unfortunately it was his favourite traditional English tea, so Albina had to pretend she liked it. Not even three spoons of sugar helped to cover the acrid taste and eventually she put the cup down and said, as politely as she could, that she couldn't drink another drop of it.

"That's alright. It takes some time to get used to it," Dumbledore said and banished the whole floral tea set. They continued their discussion late into the afternoon and in the evening Madame Flamel was teaching Albina the Latin language again.

During the week Albina was fully engaged with her job. The work proved to be as exciting as always; arranging the shelves, helping customers and fetching supplies all over London. On one such excursion on a crisp and sunny Tuesday morning she passed a group of tourist with cameras, which gave her an idea. She asked her boss if she could borrow one of their Compact Cameras to take some photos of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and Mr Owen was more than willing to lend her one. She wanted to send some pictures back home to her family.

She really enjoyed this newfound activity which effectively kept her mind occupied. Despite their protests she took portraits of both Mr Kitcher and Mr Owen, which turned out rather nice. Both men had strong chin and brown hair with grey streaks starting to appear. They were powerfully built and looked quite alike, much like brothers, and were approximately of the same age, though Nestor Owen was starting to become bald sooner than Cadmus. She found out that their mothers were identical twins, which probably explained their resemblance though they were only cousins. They both loved Quidditch and Mr Kitcher had even played Beater for Ravenclaw when he had attended Hogwarts.

During her lunch break that day she went to the Three Broomsticks, taking the camera with her to take some pictures of the village and the pub in the sunny weather. She stopped here and there, taking a photo of a window or of a nice part of a straw roof with stone chimney poking out. She turned around and took the photo of the High Street when she suddenly noticed something odd. A dark shadow slinked around the corner as if it was trying to hide from her sight. She thought she caught a glimpse of the familiar billowing robes. She pretended she didn't see a thing and hurried to the pub.

Whenever she was working in Hogsmeade that week it seemed to her as if she was being watched. Often a dark shadow would pass the store as if checking whether someone was inside. Her suspicions were finally confirmed when she went to say hello to Rosmerta on Friday and a familiar dark silhouette followed her. Sure enough the same dark silhouette was sitting by the bar next to her. Professor Snape cleared his throat. Albina sat still wordlessly, her whole body tense.

"Good evening, Miss Gray."

She stubbornly stared at her pint of Butterbeer and tried to ignore him.

"Did you receive my letter?"

She didn't respond. Instead she fumbled with her handbag and pulled out his letter with her own furious scribbling all over it and placed it in front of his large nose. He stared at it with a raised brow.

"Charming. Does this mean you'll agree to it or—"

"Must I spell it out for you?" she said incredulously and hissed a rude insult in her language under her breath. Oh, it felt really good, especially since he couldn't understand her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Leave me alone," she growled and turned her attention to her Butterbeer.

"Hey, is everything alright over there?" an elderly wizard to their right suddenly raised his voice. Albina recognized him as the owner of a shop with magical instruments down the street. He had smiled and nodded to her a couple of times when Albina would pass him on the street and greeted him.

"Mind your own business," Snape growled rudely and glared at the man, his lips tightly pressed together.

"It's fine, thanks," Albina said hurriedly to the elderly wizard who obviously thought that Snape was bothering her. He had suspiciously reached in his pocket, glaring at Snape. Albina turned around, quickly deciding to prevent further interaction between the two wizards and simultaneously give Snape a chance to properly apologize to her. She would just have to swallow her pride and listen to what he had to say or find herself in the crossfire between the two wizards. Oh, the joys of being part Veela!

"Let's sit over there." She motioned to the far corner of the pub. He joined her shortly and they sat down, glaring at each other until Rosmerta came and asked Snape what he'd like to order, shooting weird looks to Albina behind his back. Evidently she thought that the two of them sitting together was a sight to behold. Albina sincerely hoped that Rosmerta didn't have any weird ideas about it. She smiled sourly to the landlady when the latter took Snape's order.

The man ordered Firewhiskey again. They both waited in unpleasant silence until Rosmerta brought it to him and placed it on the table with a crisp clink. They both stared at the amber liquid sparkling in the firelight, awkwardness descending between the two of them.

"Did my curse leave any permanent damage?" Snape asked suddenly.

Albina lifted her gaze from his glass and pursed her lips. "You singed off half of my hair with your _Dark curse_," she hissed under her breath. "If I hadn't ducked out of the way, I'd probably have to regrow more than just my hair," she told him resentfully.

Snape dropped his gaze to his glass of Firewhiskey and all of a sudden emptied half of the glass in a single gulp. He made a wry face but he swallowed the liquid nevertheless. Albina could tell he wasn't much of a drinker.

"Can I try it?"

Snape seemed surprised by her request, judging by how his eyes shot up and narrowed, but Albina couldn't really tell. His black orbs remained completely blank and cold. It made her think of dark deep caves full of dangerous beasts lurking in the darkness. She wondered what beasts were lurking behind those two black orbs. From what he had shown so far, aside from the colour of his voice, she didn't like anything much.

He didn't say anything, so Albina reached out and swiftly took the glass of Firewhiskey from him before he could object. She didn't really know why she wanted to try it, but her pint of Butterbeer suddenly seemed sickly-sweet to her. She was angry again and anxious in his presence, which was what probably gave her the silly idea. She smelled the Firewhiskey carefully first. It was strong. And if the name was anything to go by… She took a mighty swig and swallowed.

The amber liquid burned her throat like scorching flames. Obviously she gagged and choked. She was an even lousier drinker than Snape who smirked at her, evidently pleased that he could hold it better than her.

"This is disgusting," she murmured and shuddered under the unpleasant taste. "Why did you order it?"

She pushed the glass back to him and waited. He shrugged but remained silent.

She lifted an eyebrow. "So… are we just gonna sit here and stare at each other?"

"What do you suggest?" he drawled.

She shrugged and looked in the air, faking ignorance. "Oh, I don't know. How about an apology first?"

He slowly leaned back and crossed his arms in front of him, saying purposefully, "I'm waiting."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I trust you understood it, too."

Albina glared at him, her lips pressed in a thin line, but she forced herself to remain calm and collected. She would not let him get to her this time. She breathed out calmly through her nose and made all her anger disappeared into thin air.

What was she doing anyway, going head-front through the stone wall? Why was she acting like this with him? Why did she let him irk her so? It was probably because she had zero tolerance for Dark Magic thanks to Kovran. Nonetheless, she was better than this. She was getting what she was giving, so perhaps she should try a different tactic to spin the needle into a direction that was favourable to her.

Her jaw was set tight, but she managed to say, "I didn't do it on purpose, alright? The night before, when I came to see Dumbledore, I took some Linguopotion to be able to speak English fluently. You are a Potions Master; you must know the aftereffects of that particular potion. What I did the next evening wasn't entirely my fault, you know." Snape lifted his right eyebrow in mock disbelief, so she added quickly, "I admit; going there wasn't the most brilliant thing I've ever done, but I wasn't thinking clearly. You frightened me when you grabbed me and started dragging me away like some kind of a criminal after you discovered who I really was. I was scared and I mixed up the incantations. I just wanted to get away. "

"Guilty conscience, I suppose."

"Well, unlike you, I apologized the moment I realized my mistake."

"I tried to apologize the very next day, but you wouldn't let me."

"Well, of course. I was angry at you for trying to blow my head off!"

"I wrote you that letter. What more do you want from me?"

"I want a sincere apology."

"In that case the letter should suffice," he said stiffly.

Her pulse quickened dangerously. She wasn't getting anywhere by playing polite. She wanted a proper apology. She wanted him to admit to his mistake and feel sorry about it. It was time for a more firm approach. Albina placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, hissing under her breath, "You think I'm stupid? You think because English isn't my mother tongue I'd buy this crap you sent me?"

Snape's lips were pressed in a thin line when he asked, "What exactly is wrong with it?"

"What's wrong it?" she repeated with raised eyebrows. "I'll tell you what's wrong with it. Everything. You think I can't read between the lines?"

"I meant every single word I wrote."

Albina smiled contemptuously. "I'm sure you did. Let me see…" she murmured, pulling the letter out again. "Oh yeah… _I MUST apologize to you._ Who exactly is forcing you? Oh, and this one is priceless… _I could have hurt you badly, and for that I am truly sorry. _I'm sure you were having a good laugh when you wrote it. You think you're so smart, don't you?"

"What are you blabbering about, you insolent woman?"

Albina brought her fists down on the table, hissing through her teeth, "Do not insult me. I am far from being stupid. You're making it sound as if nothing you did is your responsibility, ergo you feel not even remotely sorry about it," she said firmly, barely noticing a Latin word creeping into her vocabulary from her lessons with Madame Flamel.

"You know nothing about how I feel or what your Entrancement is doing to my mind," came Snape's angry reply.

Severus had had enough. This woman irked him immensely. How dare she claim his letter was inadequate? It was exactly as it should be: a proper formal apology. Not that he saw the need to apologize in the first place; if anything, she should beg him for forgiveness. Repeatedly.

He had had enough of her image persevering on the surface of his mind like some utterly annoying silly tune that kept echoing in your ears despite your desperate attempts to force it out. His inner eyelids were imprinted with the picture of her face, and now that she was in front of him, his eyeballs burned with animosity like hot coals.

It wasn't his fault that he had acted violently towards her. It was her incompetence with magic and her stupidity, but above all, her having the audacity to try to use her charms on him, whether those were Veela Charms, Trance Charms, Entrancing Enchantments or Enchanting Entrancements. She just had to mix up the last two only to add to the degradation of his dignity. She just had to use a charm that shady wizards usually used to make women more willing and susceptible. He felt humiliated and that was what set him off.

What is more, he strongly suspected that she had a hidden agenda up her sleeve and he was dying to know what it was. How was she able to get away after she acquired her wand back from him? He had combed through the rose garden but she simply disappeared though she obviously couldn't have Disapparated from Hogwarts grounds. How did she get there in the first place and what was she doing there under a false identity anyway? How did she know how to change her appearance? Face Transfiguration and Colour-Changing Spells suspiciously pointed to Auror training, despite her obvious lack of talent. Why did she have two wands? And how on earth did she manage to get her hands on the notoriously expensive Linguopotion?

He knew something strange was going on. He wasn't sure whether trying to convince her to help him was a good idea. He was under her spell; she had the power to make him say things and do things he didn't want to say and do.

By coincidence he had spotted her in Hogsmeade on Tuesday when he went to fetch new potion supplies from the Apothecary – he had to replace all the stolen and damaged potion ingredients because last Thursday certain someone had the nerve to break into his office. For some reason she was taking photos of Hogsmeade in the sunny weather. Upon closer inspection he discovered that she was working at Kitcher & Owen. Apparently she had successfully infiltrated into their society.

He felt strangely drawn to her. At first he thought it was all because of the Entrancement. Then it occurred to him that her hair looked… different. He didn't know how he could have missed it before, but now it became clear to him that she was part Veela. He suddenly wished he had really blown her whole head off instead of just singing off her hair. He knew he was doomed if his curse left any permanent damage. The Veela were known to be extremely touchy about their precious hair.

From then on he had regularly been sneaking to Hogsmeade during his free hours, always with an excuse ready at hand. He went to the Apothecary twice, but then he had to choose another store, or it would look suspicious. One day he went to buy new socks (he needed two new pairs anyway) and on another occasion, not sure how or why, he had found himself at the Honeydukes. For the lack of better ideas, he had bought a bag of roasted pumpkin seeds. Each time he purposefully passed Kitcher & Owen's store to check where she was and what she was up to. He had to admit that, in a manner of speaking, he was spying on her. He was also anxiously waiting for her reply. At first he thought that she hadn't received his owl yet or that she was still deciding on her reply, but as days went by, he realized that she was ignoring him.

On Friday afternoon the first opportunity to confront her about the matter presented itself. After her shift at the store ended, he followed her to the Three Broomstick. Perhaps that was her plan from the start: to wait until he sought her out. If he really wanted to know what her plan was, though, he would simply have to let her get on with it. All he could do was minimise potential risks by choosing to confront her in a public space, thus giving her less space to manoeuvre.

He knew he was vulnerable in her presence, but as fate would have it, he needed her assistance to get rid of her. The problem was that she was deaf to his attempts to convince her to help him, deathly offended by his onetime moment of weakness when he snapped and tried to give her a warning that he was not to be messed with. He would not let her humiliate him any further by making him crawl on his knees. He would make her see what a pompous idiot she was.

"Just who do you think you are," he said with a contemptuous sneer, "demanding an apology from me, and when I deliver it, you first refuse to listen to me, then you ignore my letter and now you deem my apology as insincere? How can I even apologize to you if you refuse to accept any kind of apology? You are being completely unreasonable! You expect me to assume responsibility for my actions while you fail to admit your own responsibility in this matter!"

"That's not true. I did assume my part of the responsibility," Albina said firmly, refusing to give in. She was determined to win this argument, being firmly convinced in her line of reasoning. "I was willing to remove the Entrancement before you tried to curse off my head. If I don't believe that you feel truly sorry about what you had tried to do to me, how can I trust you that you won't try to do something similar next time when I accidentally step on your nerve?" she said unyieldingly, convinced in her own right to demand what she deemed to be a sincere apology.

Snape glared at her. He took another swig of his Firewhiskey, emptied the glass in a single gulp and brought it back down with a loud clink.

"Tell me, what will it take to convince you to remove the Entrancement that _you_ had put me under in the first place? Do I have to kiss the ground beneath your feet?"

Albina rolled her eyes and sighed. "All I want is a sincere apology and a guarantee that you won't try to curse my head off again while I'm trying to HELP you."

"Fine. I'm truly sorry and I won't try to curse you again – as long as you don't try to exploit my position," he said rather forcefully while his eyes remained cold, impassive and distrustful.

"Is that supposed to be a sincere apology?"

"It's the best you'll get. Take it or leave it."

"Fine. Then I'm leaving," she said collectedly and stood up, holding her chin high.

"Will you sit down!" Snape growled and grabbed her forearm.

"Let me go," Albina hissed wide-eyed and took a step backwards, trying to free herself from his cold grip.

He immediately released her and put his hands up as in surrender. "I am not going to hurt you," he said stiffly in a low voice, probably afraid that she would start screaming.

"I'll make sure you don't get the second chance," she hissed and darted away from him as fast as she could.

She breathed in deeply to calm herself while she paid Rosmerta for the drink. She congratulated herself for not letting him get to her this time. She managed to stay relatively calm and insensitive, didn't she? Her shoulder hadn't prickled at all this whole time, had it? All was well, she told herself reassuringly and fumbled with her handbag, stuffing his letter and her wallet back inside her handbag with shaky fingers, a sure sign of adrenalin running through her veins. How could his cold grasp have such an effect on her? She mentally chided herself. She didn't look back to see that Snape had followed her.

Severus Snape simply had to make her help him and if it involved begging, then so be it. She had stupidly made a hole in his Occlumency shield; a weakness that could be exploited. The face of Rose Green had fused with another strikingly similar face in his mind. It kept floating on the surface and made him vulnerable. He could not risk it. The Dark Lord was growing stronger. His own Dark Mark branded on his forearm was a proof of that. It was only a matter of time. He knew what Dumbledore would ask of him; he had already hinted it a couple of times this year. He needed the Entrancement removed as soon as possible, preferably well before the Second Task at the end of February, so he could be ready to fulfil his promise when needed. Even if it meant he would have to offer his head to her on a silver plate. He had no choice really.

"Miss Gray, wait," he said as he approached the bar, making her swirl around.

Albina found herself pinned between the tall counter and his looming figure.

"I'm not listening to anything you've got to say anymore," she said with an upturned nose and tried to leave, but he blocked her path.

"You're acting like a bloody Hippogriff! Do I really have to bow to you and beg for your forgiveness?" he said irritably.

"You can try," she said, crossed her arms in front of her and waited spitefully.

Snape exhaled tiredly. When he made a sudden gesture to vent his annoyance before delivering the humiliating speech, she flinched nervously and took a step backwards, making him frown.

"There's no need to be afraid of me," Snape said in a calmer voice.

"I'm not afraid. You just… make me nervous. I don't know what to expect of you," she said stiffly.

Severus was suddenly seeing things from a different perspective. It certainly seemed that she was afraid of him despite her denial. Apparently she had learned her lesson not to mess with him. Perhaps the trick was not to make her believe that he was sorry, but to convince her he would not try to curse her for a second time. It was time to switch from his offensive intimidating demeanour to a more benevolent disposition.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and summoned his softest kind of voice. "Look. I am NOT going to try to curse you again. I am truly sorry for what I did. Your Entrancement is clouding my judgement. I wasn't thinking clearly when I attacked you. I promise I will control myself in the future, though. You have nothing to fear. Please, I need your help to get rid of it. "

This time his apology finally sounded sincere, but still Albina didn't feel particularly forgiving or trusty of him. His cold empty eyes were still unnerving her. Being so uncomfortably close to him, she suddenly remembered one of the reasons why she was so resentful towards the man.

There was one thing she needed to know before she would decide what to do. She had to ask him if he had told anyone about their encounter in the rose garden. There was no secret that Rose Green was there, but no one except him should have known that Rose and Albina were the same person.

"Did you tell anyone about the incident on the night of the Yule Ball?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "How is that relevant?"

"Rita Skeeter knows that I was posing as Rose Green."

"She must have found out some other way. I only told Dumbledore about it and she was nowhere near at the time."

"How does she know what both of us look like then?"

Snape frowned. "Both of us? She didn't mention me, too, did she?"

"I meant me and my alter ego. She wasn't there, was she?"

"Not as far as I can tell. She definitely wasn't invited; but who knows, maybe she snuck in and was hiding in the bushes like you were."

A Lumos suddenly brightened Albina's mind. "Of course…" she murmured as she realized why Rita was able to recognize the face of Albina Gray – she had to have seen her before. If someone only told Rita about the incident, she wouldn't be able to recognize Albina's face at first sight. She had to be there herself to witness the transformation, see both faces and hear both names. It suddenly became clear to her. Rita was probably snooping around rose bushes in her beetle form.

"You've just realized something, haven't you?" Snape asked curiously.

"Yeah, nothing important…" she murmured and waved her hand dismissively.

"Fine, let's presume that I believe you. The matter that involves me is important, however. I would like to know if you are still prepared to help me or if I am wasting my time. Sometime this month would be nice," he said tiredly, his shoulders sagging benignly. He stared down at her, expecting an answer.

His body language was saying it all in Albina's opinion – he gave up, waving the white flag. She effectively won the argument and defeated him, showing him who was in control. What more did she want from him?

The man was not well; she could see that he was tired and irritable. He looked like a mess, actually, his black greasy hair lying limply across his skull, his eyes sunken, his complexion an unhealthy shade of grey and yellow. He did use a Dark curse when he attacked her, but he was not in his right mind, and she was responsible for that.

Albina suddenly felt almost sorry for making him beg on his knees for forgiveness and for jumping to conclusions that he was the one who informed Rita Skeeter about Rose Green. So she quickly decided to fix this whole mess that she had caused in the first place. She heaved a sigh and lifted her head to look at him. They stared at each other for a few unpleasant seconds.

"Alright, fine. I'll do it. Let's go."

He lifted an eyebrow, asking, "Go where exactly?"

"To your office, of course. Or do you want me to do it right here in front of everyone?"

Few people turned around and gaped at both of them; the owner of the magical instruments' store that had tried to help Albina earlier even choked on his pint of Butterbeer. Albina didn't realize she had said it rather loudly.

"That sounded a bit weird…" she added, covered her mouth and blushed like a beetroot.

"Marvellous, Miss Gray. Simply marvellous," he said sharply and glared at her darkly. "You seem to have special talent for putting me in awkward and embarrassing situations," he drawled venomously. Only now Albina noted, standing so close to him, that he was much taller than her, even though she was wearing her usual buckled boots and was quite tall herself.

"Sorry," she murmured and shrank in his towering shadow.

"I would prefer if we could do this tomorrow after curfew," he said authoritatively.

"After what?"

"Curfew."

"What's _curfew_?"

Snape smirked, making her feel rather embarrassed about her vocabulary. "It's a time limit. After nine pm all students have to be in their common rooms. No wandering around the castle."

"Oh. I understand. You don't want anyone to see me going to your office."

"Obviously."

"Is that because you don't want any witnesses to incriminate you after you kill me?" she said, smiling sheepishly, feeling mortified by her stupid piece of speech earlier.

"Except for half of this pub that's listening to every word we're saying," he said with a smirk.

Albina grinned and glanced around. Few people were still staring curiously at them. For some unfathomable reason that made her relax.

"Alright, tomorrow it is. Where and when exactly?"

"At nine pm sharp by the Hogwarts' front gates. I'll come open it for you."

And so finally Severus Snape and Albina Gray reached some sort of an agreement.

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_Next: Albina and Snape have their first successful session. Snape's suspicious mind formulates a plan._

_Please review. I would really appreciate feedback since it helps me improve. Thank you!_


	13. Chapter 12: Suspicious Mind

_Previously: Severus and Albina agreed on a meeting to remove the Entrancement._

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SUSPICIOUS MIND

Albina spent the Saturday morning mostly in the kitchen with Fidele. The little elf wouldn't let her help cooking, so she simply sat on a firewood box next to the cast-iron stove and observed Fidele. There was an old radio in the kitchen, probably one of the first models from even before Kitcher and Owen started their business. They listened to Fidele's favourite program The Charmed Kitchen, followed by WWN News, but Albina paid little attention to the voices coming from the radio. She was absentmindedly filling her sketchbook until the commentator announced that Celestina Warbeck has finally released her new album called Spelling. Her latest hit, Under Your Spell, rang loudly from the speakers.

_"When you're waving your wand, you're doing it well. _

_What is your secret, won't you please tell?_

_I'm under your spell; I don't know what to do._

_With your ability you draw me closer to you…" _shrieked Celestina and her choir of banshees. Fidele seemed to enjoy the song tremendously and had started to hum the catchy melody. At this point Albina had had enough and ran off to the quietness of the library.

For some reason the oncoming meeting with Snape in the evening made her restless. She was a bit worried about her ability to remove the Entrancement, but after repeating the words and the wand movements for what must have been the hundredth time, she was convinced she could manage. What worried her still were Snape himself and his unpredictable behaviour. He seemed to be in control of his actions the previous evening at the Three Broomsticks, but since witnessing his outburst at the Headmaster's office and almost getting her head blown off, she had all the right to still be wary of him. She wasn't sure if agreeing to meet him was a smart thing to do. They would be all alone this time and no one would be able to intervene if Snape decided to release his rage upon her again.

Despite her doubts Albina held her promise and, as it had been agreed, she Apparated to Hogsmeade five minutes to nine o'clock in the evening. Apparating didn't make her nervous any more, but what awaited her at her final destination did. Twitchily she walked to Hogwarts' front gates and waited anxiously in the darkness, her wand tip emitting only a faint glow. Soon she heard steps approach on the gravel and a strong beam of light hit her in the face, making her heart jump up a beat.

"Good evening, Miss Gray," said Snape formally and opened the tall iron gates. He appeared calm, which assured Albina somewhat. He had promised he wouldn't try to curse her again, so there was nothing to worry about, was there?

"Hello," she murmured and slowly slipped inside, trying to force a polite smile on her lips. She looked up to decipher his current disposition, but she couldn't see his face well because of the strong glare of his wand. She glanced at her own feeble Lumos that barely contributed to the illumination of the gravel path in front of them. She cleared her throat nervously and tried to start a friendly conversation to loosen up the mood.

"I don't get it. Winged boars? Where did that idea come from?" she said lightly and glanced back to the gates flanked by tall winged boar statues.

"I don't see how that is relevant," Snape replied flatly and turned around to walk back from where he had just come, obviously expecting her to promptly follow him.

Albina lifted both her brows in bewilderment. This time she could honestly say that she didn't provoke him; she was even trying to be nice. In fact, she believed they had reached an understanding, but apparently she had just a very wild imagination.

Severus Snape was obviously in a bad mood. He failed to convince Dumbledore to be present during the meeting. That was why he suggested meeting the next day; to have time to sway his opinion. But the trusting old fool simply said he didn't wish to get involved anymore. Now he was left to her mercy and he didn't like it, not one bit. All he could do was take a sip of the Wit-Sharpening Potion to minimise the effects she had on him.

They headed towards the Hogwarts castle, not saying a word to each other until a bit further along the path, the Hogwarts Castle came into view with hundreds of illuminated twinkling windows. Albina tried to engage Snape in a conversation again.

"The school's enormous. How many students do you currently have?"

He was quiet for a while, his eyes fixed on the path in front of him, but then he finally responded, "Around seven hundred."

"Your school is as big as our entire community," she told him, but he remained silent, striding purposefully forward. He obviously didn't like small talk much. Not that Albina was a fan of it either, but the awkward silence was much more unnerving.

They walked on in silence for a minute or two, and Albina was just about to make another awkward comment about the Durmstrang ship on the lake when Snape suddenly surprised her with a question.

"Where are you from exactly?"

"I'm from Trieste," she said automatically. "But I'm a part of the Carniolan magical community," she added quickly to clarify her origins.

"Your English is almost flawless."

She tittered lightly. "Almost? What do you mean, almost?" she said, sounding falsely offended. "My British accent is alright, isn't it?"

"Not really," he said flatly.

"Well, thank you for the sincere answer, I guess," she said, feeling both amused and a bit perplexed by his indifferent behaviour. She cleared her throat and tried to continue with a more collected voice. "What do I sound like then?"

"Foreign."

"Wow. How did you guess that?" Albina grinned while his face still remained completely impassive.

"You said English isn't your native tongue. But your surname suggests otherwise," Snape continued slowly and glanced sideways, observing her carefully as he waited for her response.

Albina stopped and narrowed her eyes with suspicion. He stopped, too, and faced her.

"What is this? An interrogation?" she asked, placing her arms akimbo.

Snape suddenly lifted the tip of his wand and directed the light directly at her face. "I'd simply like to know more about the witch who I'm about to allow to point a wand at my head and meddle with my mind."

Albina took a nervous step back and lifted her wand-free hand to shade her eyes from the strong glare. As his wand remained shooting nothing but light at her, the nervousness she was feeling was soon replaced by simple annoyance. Besides, she was still firmly holding her own wand, which assured her somewhat.

"You should trust people more, you know," she told him collectedly.

"I don't know in what kind of wondrous place you've been living so far, but from where I come from, such light-minded and trustful creatures as yourself, that rely on the goodness of others when it comes to their safety, soon end up dead," he spat bitterly.

"As you can see, I'm still very much alive."

"A wonder to behold."

"I can take care of myself just fine," Albina said defiantly. "Do I have to remind you that I still have my both wands on me?" she said rather boldly while her pulse quickened.

"I could disarm you within a blink of an eye," Snape said arrogantly, still pointing the tip of his wand straight at her. He made no move and no indication that he was about to attack her, yet it didn't seem that he was about to lower his wand either. Albina's heart started throbbing nervously in her ears and her tongue became as dry as parchment. She didn't dare lifting her own wand; firstly because she knew perfectly well that she didn't stand a chance in a duel against him, secondly because she didn't want to give him an excuse to attack her.

"I really don't know why Dumbledore chose you to bind the Unbreakable Vow when I told him to pick his most trusted man," Albina muttered, realizing just how naïve she might have been. The scar on her shoulder started to hurt, but Albina pushed it to the back of her mind.

"You both really ought to trust people less," Snape murmured.

"Well, I hope it makes you happy if I tell you that I don't really trust you right now," she said, determined not to show any fear.

"Yet you have managed to find yourself in this precarious position with me pointing my wand at you. Quite thoughtless of you, wouldn't you agree?" he said tauntingly, his wand still shooting a beam of strong white light straight at Albina's pale face.

Albina was determined not to let him provoke her again. She straightened up with newly found defiance and forced herself to breathe calmly and think rationally. He didn't pose any real threat to her anyway, did he? True, he resented her for humiliating him and he was currently pointing a wand directly at her head. She remembered all too well how that played out last time. Yes, she had been the first to draw her wand and she had screamed and pointed her own wand directly at his forehead then, but only to remove the Entrancement. She admitted that he could have interpreted her actions incorrectly, but only because he had been livid then, not in control of his own actions and obviously not thinking clearly. But he was definitely thinking clearly now, wasn't he? His tone of voice and the fact that her head was still attached to her shoulders confirmed it. If she could just see his face! She couldn't tell what state he was in if she couldn't see him.

"Do you mind?" she said with irritation, shielding her eyes from the glare of his Lumos. She sighed exasperatedly when he still wouldn't lower his wand.

"Are you going to try to hex my head off my shoulders again? Because if you are, I'd rather turn around and avoid it altogether," she said edgily.

He didn't move at first, which made Albina feel anxious again. But then he finally lowered his lit wand and Albina breathed a sigh of relief, which made him smirk.

"I've told you, I just want to know who you are before I'll allow you to point a wand at my head. I've promised I wouldn't try to curse you again, and I intend to keep to my end of the bargain," he told her in a calmer voice and lifted his arms in a surrendering manner to assure her that he wasn't going to attack her. "As long as you keep yours," he added. His body language seemed completely relaxed and controlled, unlike the night when he shot that dark curse at her, so Albina relaxed, too.

"Fine," she said forcefully and crossed her arms in front of her. "What do you want to know?"

"You have a British surname, you claim you're from Trieste in Italy, yet you're a part of the Carniolan community. Who are you really?" he asked and authoritatively crossed his arms in front of him, waiting for an answer.

"It's all true. Trieste is a multinational city, you know. My grandfather was British. I was even able to get British documents so I can live here for an indefinite amount of time."

Snape frowned sceptically. "You don't need a Muggle identity to live here. In fact, it's preferable if Muggles don't even know we exist. Why go through all the trouble?"

"I keep forgetting that here you lead a completely separate life from Muggles. Well, it's different in Carniola. We even attend Muggle schools alongside magical courses."

Snape raised a doubtful eyebrow. "You attend both _Muggle_ and magical schools?"

"Yes, everyone does. Even though I was a late bloomer, I was no exception."

"That explains it then."

"Explains what?" she asked and narrowed her eyes, strongly suspecting that a well-crafted insult was about to follow, judging by the tone of his voice.

"Your general incompetence in magic," he said and glanced at her feebly lit wand with a smirk.

She pursed her lips, determined to elegantly prove him wrong, and gave her hawthorn wand a quick shake to produce more light, but it only flicked a bit.

"Oh, come on…" she murmured while her cheeks were flushing with embarrassment. She was convinced that the wand was so feebly lit only because she was still nervous. Her mind was simply elsewhere. Besides, Mr Ollivander had warned her that the wand might not work satisfactory and that it wasn't quite as powerful as her old wand – Kovran's wand. She concentrated hard again and this time the wand tip shone brightly, but it also started to spew out hot white sparks.

Albina gritted her teeth. "This wand is just so… capricious," she tried to explain in frustration. "If I'm not completely concentrated when I cast a spell it just… goes off. It's so difficult to tame, it's just… all over the place."

"The wand or your magic?" he asked, observing the white sparks her wand was still slowly spewing out.

"I have another wand when I need to do more precise work," she said indignantly, "and it works just fine."

"For my sake, let us hope that it does and that you had had sufficient training in magic, despite your deviant pursuit of a Muggle career."

"Look, we all attend regular schools in our community," she said irritably. "We have no choice. We need Muggle education to be able to get jobs and earn money. We're too small to function as a completely independent society like you do. We function more like a secret organization."

"I didn't know that," Snape said slowly.

"Few do," she said pointedly. "Do you even know exactly where we are, or were you just pretending to know where Carniola is?"

"I know where it is. It's south of Austria. I think I must've passed through it years ago when you were still under Yugoslavia."

"Oh, so you do know something about us," she said with surprise.

"A little," he said and started walking again.

"What were you doing there?"

"Academic research," he said curtly and didn't elaborate.

They've started to climb up towards the castle when Snape posed another question.

"Why are you here?"

"Where? You mean on this planet?" she asked artfully, still feeling a bit irritated by his nosy inquiry.

"You know exactly what I mean. Why did you come to Dumbledore?"

"I can't tell you that. I made the Unbreakable Vow for a good reason."

"Then what were you doing at the Yule Ball?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to see Harry Potter," she said simply.

Snape's eyes darkened. "Are you a member of some sort of an idiotic foreign Harry Potter fan club?"

Albina laughed curtly. "No, I most certainly am not! He's not _that_ popular abroad, you know."

"What then? You're an obsessed secret admired?"

"Of course not!" she protested.

"Then what?"

"I just wanted to gawk at his scar, alright?" she said impatiently, annoyed by all the questions.

"An obsessed secret admirer then. Charming. But you're _not_ a reporter?"

"Well, I considered changing my career to that, too, but I'm afraid Rita Skeeter thinks I'm completely hopeless," she said, sounding quite serious. It was a well masked truth anyway. "Now, is this interrogation over or do you also want to know all my deepest darkest secrets?" she said in annoyance. "We can take the Unbreakable Vow and stay up all night discussing it, if that's the case."

"I think I've got enough information out of you for tonight, thank you very much," he grumbled in irritation.

By then they've already reached the steps leading to the massive front door. Albina couldn't quite grasp how massive it was until she stood right in front of it. Snape tapped it with his wand and pushed it open. The rusty hinges creaked under the pressure.

They entered an enormous hall lit by feeble torchlight. On the other end of it was a magnificent marble staircase. Snape headed across the hall directly towards it, his steps echoing off the tall stone walls.

"Oh, wow…" Albina gasped and looked up to the high vaulted ceiling, her own buckled boots making loud hollow clinks with each slow step. The castle looked like some odd late Romanesque or early Gothic cathedral. She spun around to catch as many details as possible. She loved old buildings.

Snape stopped in front of the staircase and was looking at her with a raised eyebrow while she continued to gaze around. She paid little attention to him and started inspecting the marble staircase, admiring the balustrade. She pulled her sketchbook out of her leather handbag to do a quick sketch.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Snape asked while his eyes rested suspiciously on her sketchpad.

"My deviant pursuit of a Muggle career – as you put it – was in the field of architecture," she murmured and hurriedly scribbled all over her spiral-bound sketchbook.

"Well, I'm not giving you a tour of the place, so let's go," Snape said impatiently and swiftly turned around, his black robes twirling around his ankles.

Albina closed her sketchbook in a huff and put it back inside her handbag, promising herself to do some sketches by memory later. Perhaps next time she could even bring a camera and take some photos. Maybe she could even convince Snape to really give her a tour of the castle. She could always hope to find him in a better mood one day.

Snape didn't go up the stairs, though, as Albina expected him to. He turned right and headed for a narrow staircase that was definitely leading somewhere deep down. Albina stopped immediately, her alarms ringing again.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously.

He stopped and turned around, his eyebrow raised questioningly. "Down to my office, obviously."

"Your office is located in the basement?" she asked in bewilderment.

"No. It's located in the dungeons."

"The dungeons? You must be joking."

"I never joke. The potions classroom, the potions stores and my office are all located in the dungeons. Why? Is there a problem? Are you afraid I might imprison you, torture you until you confess, and kill you in a brutal manner afterwards?"

She half gasped half laughed while her eyes popped out with incredulity.

"Would you?" Albina asked disbelievingly with a slightly unnerving feeling in her stomach. The tone of voice he used sounded plain creepy. His face held nothing to assure her that he was not being serious.

"I'm sure my employer would be most delighted to hear I did all those things to you in the dungeons where I usually teach eleven to seventeen years old adolescents," he told her velvetly.

"You're avoiding a direct answer."

He smirked devilishly. "I promise you will get out of here alive tonight. Now, shall we?" he said silkily and gestured down the staircase.

"Does any daylight ever get down there?" Albina asked and nervously peered down the dark narrow stairs.

"Usually not."

"Who would put potions classroom in the dungeons where there is no natural light? How can you brew potions without the adequate amount of illumination?"

"That's what we have torches for."

"Torchlight can barely give you enough light to see where you're walking, not to mention that the quality of light is very poor," she objected. "It makes it harder to see the right colours and you can easily miss details. Both essential for brewing potions, wouldn't you agree?"

"That's what we have desk lamps for. Besides, the potions classroom has been in the dungeons since the Four Founders. Potions have been brewed there for hundreds of years, and I doubt that's going to change. Now, let's do what we've came here to do. I didn't bring you here to lecture me about lighting conditions in my classroom, nor of its appropriate location," he said impatiently, "So let's go."

Albina couldn't stall it any longer and so, albeit reluctantly, she followed Snape down the narrow stone staircase. It continued into a gloomy underground passage. The torches on the walls lit themselves when they passed them, making Albina jump with surprise. Snape opened a door halfway down the narrow cold passageway and held it ajar.

"After you," he said with a smirk.

Albina reluctantly entered the dark office. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all kinds of revolting things. There was a door to the left, probably leading directly to the potions classroom. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and walked past her. He withdrew his wand, making Albina flinch nervously, but he merely pointed it at the empty fireplace where orange flames suddenly erupted.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to decapitate you any time soon. I gave you my word, didn't I? As long as you don't try to manipulate me, I intend to keep it," he said velvetly.

Albina tried to relax, telling herself that there was nothing to be worried about. This was the man that Dumbledore trusted. Besides, she could call Fidele anytime to take her away from Hogwarts within a blink of an eye.

She relaxed and looked around again. There were slimy horrible things in jars standing on shelves behind Professor Snape's desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.

"Nice collection," she commented while her eyes rested on a large, slimy thing suspended in green liquid on a shelf directly behind Snape's desk. "Gives the place a lovely atmosphere."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I was just admiring your lack of taste," she blurted out jokingly before she realized that it might not be such a good idea to tickle a sleeping dragon in his lair.

"When you're done making fun of me and my office, do proceed with what you've came here to do in the first place," Snape said icily. "Take your time. There's no rush, I clearly have nothing better to do than be the object of your ridicule."

For some reason Albina found his sarcasm highly amusing and she couldn't help but to laugh heartily. "I don't know how you manage to keep a straight face when you say something like that," she said, shaking her head with a grin. She probably couldn't keep a straight face if her life depended on it.

"Maybe because it doesn't seem not even remotely funny from where I'm standing," he spat through his yellowish teeth, and Albina suspected he wasn't referring only to her little joke. "Sit down," he said forcefully and strode to his desk, taking a seat himself.

"Er… No, I'd rather stand," she said and pulled Kovran's wand out of her right sleeve, her face becoming serious again.

Snape's body tensed. "Just do it quickly then," he said stiffly, his eyes fixed upon her second wand.

"Alright. Ready?" she asked him and pointed the piece of wood at him.

"Do I have a choice?" he growled.

Albina lifted a brow and slackened the grip on the long wand. "You do. You can choose to wait for the Entrancement to wear off."

He sighed and straightened up. "That could take much too long. It's driving me crazy as it is. Just do it now," he said stiffly and tightly grabbed both armrests of his chair.

Albina pointed her wand across the desk straight at his forehead. She felt completely calm and confident now. She was the one holding the wand and it made all her anxiety disappear. While hers was gone, his was starting to become more apparent. Snape's expression and his whole body tensed, though his eyes remained ever impassive.

"You have to relax," she told him calmly.

"I am relaxed," he responded through a clenched jaw.

"No, you are not. Close your eyes, please. It will work best if you don't know when exactly it's going to happen," she said softly.

Snape glared at her, but eventually he closed his eyes, unable to resist her request since he was still under the effects of the Enchanting Entrancement. The Wit-Sharpening Potion he had taken earlier was not nearly enough to dispel the grip of the Entrancement.

Albina exhaled calmly and started chanting the incantation, waving her wand delicately.

_"Purgandi Mentem, Liberandam Sensibus, Nexum Secans…" _she chanted softly over and over again, purging Snape's mind of her presence.

A few moments later Snape opened his eyes.

"How do you feel? Did it work?" Albina asked expectantly.

"I cannot tell yet, can I?"

"Do you want me to test it?"

"I'd rather you didn't," he replied dryly.

"Alright, then we're done," said Albina and pocketed Kovran's wand in her short grey coat. She wanted to get out of the creepy dungeon as soon as possible.

For some reason Snape accompanied her to the front gates, and she was quite grateful for that. She didn't fancy walking all the way back by herself in absolute darkness. They walked in complete silence all the way down to the gates. There they agreed on a second meeting and politely exchanged goodbyes before Albina Disapparated safely back to the Flamel Manor.

Albina thought that the meeting was a straight success. Kovran's hornbeam wand had worked perfectly and she had performed the incantation flawlessly. She was becoming more and more confident in her magical abilities. Magic wasn't as unstable under her fingers as it had been right after Kovran's attack. The only thing she still didn't trust was her lack of practice with a wand, but she could easily compensate that with her talent, determination and focus. She was a very talented individual, and she could do almost anything she set her mind to, she thought smugly.

Snape, however, had different ideas. He stood still, gazing at the spot where she disappeared.

Dumbledore fell for her charms and blindly believed her every word, but Severus Snape knew better. She was plotting something that involved him. She probably thought that someone like him would prove to be an easy target. Why else would she try to use her feminine Veela charms on him and Entrance him in the first place? Because of his devilish good looks?

He realized just how vulnerable he was in her presence when she made him relax and close his eyes before she purged his mind. The Wit-Sharpening Potion he had taken as a precaution had about as much effect as adding daisies to Hate Potion. He might as well offer his head to her on a silver plate – actually he was already doing precisely that. But he saw straight through her plan, yes he did. She came to Dumbledore under the pretence of sharing some sort of classified information, but the real goal was to establish who Dumbledore trusted and who she could use as her source of information without the Headmaster ever realizing what was going on.

Severus Snape was determined to prove his theory right at any cost.

"Next time, Miss Gray. Next time, I will find out who you are and what you're really doing here…"

sss

_So Albina is still full of herself and Snape is suspicious. What will he do to prove his theory?_

_Next: I'm not telling you._

_Please leave a review. Thank you!_


	14. Chapter 13: Snuffles

_Previously: Albina and Severus had their first session. Severus is suspicious of her and is determined to prove that she is up to something._

sss

Early morning Albina was woken up by loud hooting outside her bedroom window. It wasn't Alba, though. It was a large tawny owl that had a small golden tube attached to its legs. Perun Novak's owl Adria had finally reached her. She let the owl in, removed the message from the container decorated by a golden bear's paw, Novak's symbol, and read it even though she already knew the contents. Her mentor was coming to Britain in exactly one week.

In the afternoon Dumbledore arrived for their Sunday Occlumency lesson. As on previous occasions, they retreated into the privacy of the Flamel library and sat down behind one of the two broad desks.

"I've been sleeping as a dove since the last incident. I think it's helping me," Albina reported to Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid it's still too early to tell how exactly it's affecting you. I shall give you an advice that a good friend of mine is very fond of: _Constant vigilance!_ In your case it actually makes perfect sense. You can get no rest from Kovran; he is a part of you. You should keep a detailed track of your thoughts, abilities and feelings. If you notice anything unusual you should write it down and analyse it. You don't want him to sneak back into your mind, do you?" Dumbledore said sternly.

"No, I don't," Albina said solemnly. She assured Dumbledore that she was regularly performing the mental exercises, which was true. She especially liked the breathing technique which effectively calmed her down and cleared her mind.

"There are four rules to Occlumency," Dumbledore told her. "Know thyself, clear your mind, erect mental shield, and plan for release. You must not lose yourself in nothingness, and though you can become emotionally numb, you cannot stop feeling completely. Some emotions can also be used as a shield."

Albina nodded and made a note into her sketchbook.

"You will continue to try to clear your mind regularly every day, especially when faced with challenges and also before you go to sleep, even though you're sleeping in your animal form." Dumbledore instructed her. "Before we proceed to the next stage, which is erecting your mental shield, we must first finish the first stage: getting to know yourself. Have you thought about what makes you a natural Occlumens?"

"Well, I've told you, I don't really know. My life was pretty regular up until Kovran's attack. But I've changed a lot since then."

They continued to dig into the workings of her mind until Dumbledore was satisfied with her answers.

"Now we shall speak about the second stage, the mental shield," he finally declared. "There are two ways of blocking your opponent: completely blocking and partially blocking. Completely blocking is somewhat easier, safer and more reliable than partially blocking. On the other hand, showing the intruder only what you want to show while withholding the most essential parts requires an enormous amount of self-discipline. The goal is for the Legilimens not even noticing the use of Occlumency. I will teach you how to block your opponent completely first. Before we do that, however, you must plan a good venting technique. The things you push in your subconscious come out eventually, which you've already experienced, I believe."

"Yes, I have," she said, remembering all too well the last time she almost crumbled before jumping off a cliff.

"Usually Occlumenses develop a tendency to express what they're trying to Occlude in some way or another. For example, if someone had to hide their true loyalty, they would have to hide emotions like disapproval, disgust, anger, hate. But these emotions come out eventually, so they develop a tendency to be, for example, impolite towards other people, or disgusted by animals, or angry at themselves. In worst cases they develop self-destructive habits. That is why Occlumency is an obscure branch of Mind Magic and can be very dangerous."

Albina paled. The word self-destructive sounded very close to things like jumping off high places. She came to realization that she was probably using adrenalin as a venting technique. Jumping off high places could be a very stimulating and freeing experience. It effectively reset her mind, she told Dumbledore.

"I'm sure it does; but ask yourself this: why do you need it in the first place? What kind of emotions, memories and thoughts were you trying to Occlude and most importantly, from whom?"

"I was just… trying to forget, I guess."

"The Occlumency you were using thus far was not primarily directed towards Kovran, was it? It was directed towards yourself."

She frowned and glanced at Dumbledore who returned the look knowingly. Her own voice echoed in her mind.

_I can just… disappear sometimes. Forget I exist. Nothing can make me angry, nothing can hurt me. There's no I AM, just IT IS…_

She was doing perfectly well ignoring herself and avoiding her problems in order to be able to live from day to day.

"You're right," Albina whispered slowly as realization hit her. "But how do I direct it towards him?"

"Control your emotions, but don't deny them. Hide it from others if you must, but don't hide it from yourself," Dumbledore told her.

"It's not that easy as it sounds."

"You will not find a simple equation with a straightforward solution. Human mind is complex and multidimensional. Reflecting upon your thoughts and feelings will aid you. You must know precisely what you need to Occlude, not only what you want to. You must also identify the triggers that establish the connection with Kovran and focus on eliminating them."

Next day in the afternoon a couple of Ministry workers came to Kitcher & Owen's shop to check on the progress of their new car. This surprised Albina, for she had no idea that her bosses were doing those kinds of things, too. The two shops they had didn't exactly look as a mechanical shop, but Albina found out that Kitcher and Owen had a large workshop at home and dealt with numerous little projects from cars to radios, cameras, toilets and most recently television – everything that was of Muggle origin and could be, with some magical modifications, used in a contemporary magical household.

The Ministry car project was also apparently the main reason upon which they decided to hire her, for they needed an assistant to have more time for the adaptation of the car. Apparently their two little shops in London and Hogsmeade were just the tip of the iceberg that was their business. The biggest order the business ever had was the Knight Bus, which Mr Kitcher's grandfather – who established the business before his son and his grandson took over – remodelled and charmed singlehandedly, Mr Kitcher told her proudly. They still had to repair it from time to time. They also did house calls and deliveries by Owl Post. All this explained how Kitcher & Owen were doing fairly well despite their cramped shop selling mismatched Muggle products, which they had to buy in Muggle shops first anyway.

She found out to her great surprise that a great deal of the purchases was actually done by the house-elves. On Tuesday in the afternoon while she was cleaning the shop-window displaying a Self-Flushing Toilet, an elf wrapped in what seemed to be a thick velvet curtain popped into existence right on the top of the counter in the middle of the shop, squeaked something about his master wanting some toothpaste and toilet paper, and dropped a few silver coins in Mr Kitcher's hand. It would have given Albina a heart attack if she hadn't seen a house-elf before. This one looked much older than Fidele, had a pointy nose and large hazel eyes. It seemed a lot more confident, too. Albina suspected it might be a male. After it went away Mr Kitcher murmured something about house-elves being sent by their masters who didn't want to be seen buying things at their shop, but Albina didn't quite understand what he meant by that.

Next day the Ministry car was ready and Kitcher and Owen went to hand it over, leaving Albina in charge of the shop at Diagon Alley while the one in Hogsmeade was temporarily closed. They soon returned, reporting that all went smoothly. Albina asked them what exactly they had done to the car. They explained they had added various concealment, security and expansion charms, along with making the car run on magic of course. All this information sparked some interest in Albina and got her thinking. She was curious about how British Wizarding transportation and communication systems worked in general, and her two bosses gladly educated her about it.

Obviously there were Apparition, Floo Network, Portkeys and broomsticks; they told her in the London store while they were arranging daily orders for Owl Post deliveries. Flying carpets were banned in Britain (but not in Carniola, much to Mr Kitcher's delight). Albina added that Side-along Apparition with a house-elf was also possible and that Phoenixes could also take you wherever you wanted, but she quickly closed her mouth, realizing that she was giving away too much information. Mr Kitcher then remembered it was also possible to travel by flying horses, Thestrals and Hippogriffs, or in general, any magical beast a person could ride without getting their head bitten off. Flying horses reminded Mr Owen about the Beauxbatons carriage parked at Hogwarts and of Durmstrang's ship currently anchored in the Black Lake.

Mr Owen continued to chatter on the topic of magical transportation even after they Apparated to Hogsmeade to reopen the store. He seemed to be in a particularly cheerful mood. Thanks to him she also found out that twice a week a supply train delivered fresh food and other goods to Hogsmeade, and that a fleet of oar-less boats would take the food to Hogwarts across the lake, where an army of house-elves came to pick up the fresh cargo and take it directly to the kitchens.

Albina was curious if there were any magical flying machines that could fly across the Atlantic, but Mr Owen just regarded her with a puzzled expression, saying there were flying carriages pulled by winged horses, but only French were particularly fond of those, and they couldn't possibly take you across the Atlantic. A famous carriage once tried to cross the ocean, but halfway from Ireland to Iceland the horses were already too exhausted and they drowned in the stormy sea. There weren't enough emergency brooms on board and so many wizards and witches who lost their wands in the fall, tragically drowned. The terrible accident was known as the Flight of Icarus. Since then all flying carriages were forbidden to try to cross the ocean and were prohibited flying overseas without emergency brooms for every single passenger and crew aboard.

Obviously ships were much safer and comfortable, concluded Mr Owen. It was possible to book a cabin aboard a ship called Proteus that cruised across all seas of the world and stopped once a week in Southampton, he told her.

Albina pointed out that ships weren't necessarily that safe. The tragedy of Icarus sounded as notorious as the Titanic in the Muggle world, Albina told Mr Owen, but he had no idea what she was talking about.

Magical trains were popular too, it suddenly occurred to Mr Owen. Most famous of all were of course the Hogwarts Express with a regular London-Hogsmeade Line, the Continental Express connecting Paris and London, and occasional train connections to various cultural and sporting events hosted all over Britain. Mr Owen mentioned Celestina Warbeck's concert and asked Albina if she'd like to attend it. If she did, he could get her first row tickets. Remembering Fidele's squeaking voice and Celestina's shrieking from the kitchen radio, Albina quickly discarded that idea, leaving Mr Owen looking rather forlorn.

In the end of the discussion Albina's brains were well occupied with all this banal information, so she pulled out her old sketchbook which was now almost completely full of sketches and notes. Later that day they were visited by another Ministry worker that Mr Owen was apparently quite familiar with.

"Arthur! Good to see you! What brings you here?" he greeted the ginger-haired man when he entered the Hogsmeade store.

"Hello, Nestor. I'm here on Ministry business again, I'm afraid. I came to check if you removed all those Talking Toothbrushes from sale here, too."

"Yes. We've got only Muggle ones now, unfortunately."

"I liked the idea, I really did, but after so many found its way into Muggle mouths, I really had no choice but to remove it."

"I don't blame you, Arthur. I think the Law Enforcement Patrol should have investigated the matter and arrest whoever sold the toothbrushes to Muggles. I'm telling you, this was done with the purpose to sabotage our business. It's not the first time something like this has happened either, and you know it."

"You know the Patrol; they don't care about illegal toothbrush sale. They think whoever is behind it is simply having a good laugh," Arthur said apologetically.

"Well, we can still sell the same boring Muggle toothbrushes. How are you anyway? Wife and kids alright?"

The red haired man grinned. "Molly and I are enjoying some heavenly peace at home, now that all our kids are finally at Hogwarts. How about you?"

"Well, there's not much to tell. I'm still single. Just waiting for the right one, I guess," Mr Owen said and inexplicably glanced in Albina's direction. She tried very hard not to grimace. Mr Owen was not that old, but he was still much too old for her, judging by his greying hair. She shivered and vowed herself never to brush her hair with that damn Veela brush again.

"We have an assistant now. She's from Trieste, but she's part British and she speaks perfect English. Hey, Albina, come here. I want you to meet someone," Mr Owen summoned her away from the shelves she had been arranging with a practised Dirigo.

"This is Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Unfortunately he's our regular guest only when it comes to official Ministry business."

"Hello. I'm Albina Gray," she said politely and shook hands with the man of fiery red hair.

"How very nice to meet you," said Arthur Weasley and smiled wildly.

"You know, Albina and I were just discussing our ways of travel," Mr Owen told Mr Weasley and turned back to Albina. "Cadmus and I helped this man remodel and charm a car, but he mostly did it all by himself. Putting it both under a Flying Charm and an Invisibility Charm was a pure struck of genius. Cadmus and I have never tried to do anything like that. Then one of his sons and Harry Potter himself flew all the way from London to Hogwarts in that car and crashed it into the Whomping Willow – out of all the trees in the Hogwarts grounds! It was all over the newspapers," said Mr Owen and grinned at Mr Weasley. The redheaded man seemed highly embarrassed about it.

"Harry Potter and your son in a flying car? Really?" Albina asked in astonishment.

"Yes," Mr Weasley nodded sheepishly.

"Wow. A flying car is practically every Muggle's dream. How did it work? Would a Muggle be able to drive it?" Albina inquired excitedly. She had never heard of a real flying car before. She adored and admired any form of flying; it was no coincidence that she was a bird Animagus.

Arthur Weasley's eyes shot up with surprise. Obviously he didn't expect to hear those words.

"I don't know. Thankfully no Muggle ever tried; otherwise I'd probably be sitting in Azkaban," he said and chuckled.

"That reminds me…" Mr Owen murmured. "Did you know that Sirius Black had a flying motorbike? Cadmus and I supplied it and modified it for him – except for the Flying Charm, of course. I wonder if Black did it himself or if he had someone do it for him…"

At this point Mr Weasley seemed to take particular interest in someone who was passing the shop window.

"Who's Sirius Black?" asked Albina curiously.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not from around here. He's a notorious mass murderer who escaped from Azkaban, our highly secured prison. It happened just last year. He's still on the loose," Mr Owen explained. "He seemed so normal. Overconfident and rebellious, but still. Perhaps he had it in him the whole time, we just never saw it. He is a Black, after all. If I had known back then…" he murmured darkly. "The world would be a better place without people like him, isn't that right, Arthur?"

Mr Weasley coughed nervously and nodded stiffly.

"Is he really that dangerous?" Albina asked worriedly, eying Mr Weasley and his strange reaction worriedly.

"Well, he's the first one ever to escape Azkaban. No one knows how he did it. They haven't been able to catch him ever since," said Mr Owen. "I wonder if he still has that motorbike. Maybe he planned the whole thing and left the country on it."

"I know for a fact that the motorbike is in safe hands," said Mr Weasley.

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Rubeus Hagrid has it. Black gave it to him just before— Well, you know how the story goes."

"I had no idea. I'll have to ask Hagrid about it next time I see him," Mr Owen murmured.

"You know, I used to own a motorbike," Albina told the two men.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Well, it was more of a moped really," she told them. "Have you ever tried to charm a motorbike to fly, Mr Weasley?" she asked, thinking that he would at least probably be able to do it if he had done it to a car.

"No, I haven't. My wife would probably kill me if I did!" he said a tad too fast and laughed lively while his hands were nervously gripping the edges of his cloak.

"Would it even be legal to do it? I mean, a flying motorbike kind of attracts attention from the ignorant world, don't you think? Have you ever considered charming a hang-glider or a small airplane to fly on magic? "

"What an interesting idea! Do you know a lot about Muggle flying machines? How do Muggles keep them in the air?" he asked her excitedly.

Albina shrugged. "I don't know exactly, but I'd say it has something to do with the wings and the engines. You know, like a paper airplane, it just needs stable wings and a good thrust."

Mr Weasley was staring at her wide-eyed, so she had to demonstrate the principle by taking a piece of parchment and folding it into an airplane. She threw it across to the other end of the store where it landed on a shelf among peach-scented toilet paper.

"What about a Helicopter; it doesn't have wings. Or how about a balloon?" Mr Weasley inquired insatiably.

"A helicopter has a propeller, and a balloon… It's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

Mr Weasley simply gaped at her with admiration, so she continued perplexedly. "It works on the principle of temperature expansion of gasses. Hot air is lighter than cold air, and that's why a balloon goes up. I don't know all the correct English terms for it," she added hurriedly, "But my father was a professor of Physics at the school I used to attend in Trieste, and he was very strict, so I know the theory quite well."

Both Mr Weasley and Mr Owen were still gaping at her.

Albina furrowed her brows. "What? Did I say something—?"

"Why didn't you say you know so much about Muggle technology?" Mr Owen exclaimed suddenly.

"I don't know _that_ much…" she mumbled. "I learned the basics in school. I was quite good at Physics. My father would always give me extra lessons, but I probably forgot half of it already," she said without false modesty.

"You went to a Muggle school?" Mr Weasley asked in disbelief. "But you're a witch, I saw you using a wand earlier!"

"Where I'm from, we all have to attend regular schools. There are no magical schools; we just mostly have evening courses and mentors. We are so small that we don't have enough magical jobs. We need to live among Muggles and have Muggle jobs to earn money."

"Why didn't you tell us before that you went to a Muggle school?" asked Mr Owen.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It didn't seem important and you never asked. I did say that I know almost all about Muggles and that I had mostly Muggle education, but it's really just general education," she said dismissively. "Nothing specific and nothing practical, just books and theory—"

"Why didn't you specify it when you asked for the job?" Mr Owen interrupted her. "We had no idea! We would have given you a better position, a better salary!" he exclaimed. "It's a good thing we discovered just how educated you are. Congratulations. You've just been promoted."

"Really?" she said wide-eyed.

"Yes. You're going to a help us with our projects."

"Oh no, I don't know if I'm competent enough. I have literally no experience," she said, fearing that Mr Owen was expecting way too much of her.

"But you have an extensive background and you know all about Muggles. You've even lived like one! No matter how hard Cadmus and I try, we will never have that kind of insight," he told her.

"That's very true," Mr Weasley confirmed. "Things that are second nature to Muggles are often a complete mystery to me. I still don't know how to properly light a match!"

"Don't worry, we can teach you everything else you'll need to know," Mr Owen ensured her. "Now tell me, what do you know about Television? How does it work?"

"Well," said Albina, not knowing where to start, "First there's a… Well, you need to record image and sound first, transform it into a television signal, send it with a transmitter and on the other end receive it with an antenna, then display it on a screen."

"Yes, yes, but how do they make the picture appear on the screen?"

"Oh. That's a bit complicated. I learned about it, but I don't think I can remember all the details… There's this thing called… er… the Cathode Tube in the box behind the screen, and it shoots electrons onto the curved glass screen in the front. I think there are dots of red, green and blue colour on the inside of the screen, and when they get shot by an electron they start shining. Mixing them produces all other colours and makes an image constructed out of tiny light dots. I think that's how it goes."

"Wow," Arthur Weasley breathed out. "You should consider working for the Ministry."

"Arthur, she already has a job!" Mr Owen exclaimed possessively.

"Does that mean I get a raise?" she asked and grinned. She suddenly liked this new development a lot.

"Naturally. How about additional fifteen Galleons per month?"

Albina's jaw dropped to the ground.

"Miss Gray, I'm sure our Ministry would be most pleased to have a consultant like yourself. Don't hesitate to contact us. I'll put up a good word for you. Our department would do well with someone like you."

"Alright, thank you," she said wide-eyed.

After Mr Weasley left the store Mr Owen told her that he sincerely hoped she wasn't considering changing her job now that he had given her a considerable raise.

Mr Owen first had to update his business partner about Albina's promotion. Luckily Mr Kitcher agreed and even shook her hand with visible excitement, announcing that she was now an equal part of the team.

From that day her job became much more interesting. In accordance with her promotion, Kitcher and Owen introduced her to all the secrets of their trade. She finally got to see their workshop, too. It wasn't much; it was located on the outskirts of London in an industrial area, and it was crammed with junk that most Muggles wouldn't think twice before throwing it away. Nevertheless she was very excited – finally she was putting her education and knowledge to a better use.

Friday was there right away, and this time Albina contently finished her shift and picked up all her things while murmuring a silly song she often used to hear over the wizarding radio that both Kitcher and Owen adored, since it was one of their own inventions. They always had it turned on in both of their stores and in their workshop. It was one of Celestina Warbeck's latest hits and the silly tune simply refused to leave her mind.

_Don't go breaking my wand_

_I won't go breaking your wand_

She cheerfully hummed the duet's melody while she closed the store and headed to the Three Broomsticks to greet Rosmerta, just like most Fridays after work. An eventful week was finally over and she was looking forward to some quiet time just for herself, away from Mr Owen's awkward looks.

Albina did not notice that she was being observed by a pair of bloodshot eyes for the whole week. She had been much too preoccupied with her new job duties to notice anything strange.

She didn't have the slightest suspicion that she was about to be stunned and dragged between a narrow gap between two houses. She would have screamed for help, would have yelped if she had had the chance. Yet she was taken by surprise and all she could do was lie still while her insides were filled with dread and confusion.

"Remember me, beauty?" hissed the man reeking heavily of alcohol and sweat when he turned her around to face her. Albina suddenly recognized him – she met him the first time she had taken the Floo to Hogsmeade and accidentally ended up at Hog's Head. He had a bandage over his hand then, and now Albina could see why. There was a large red scar across the man's palm as if his hand had been badly burnt.

His hands reached sneakily into her pockets, finding nothing, and then shamelessly travelled up her body to check her sleeves and extracted both of her wands. He threw them far away in a dark corner. She was left to the mercy of her attacker. She would have shaken out of pure dread, but she was bound to the ground.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" he hissed. "Using that clever little Enchantment of yours... I'll show you... I'll show you good..." he growled.

He got closer, too close, and inhaled deeply.

"I've been waiting for you all this time, just like you told me. I love your smell..." he said sickly and buried his head into her neck. "Mmm… lavender."

Albina would have repulsed, would have kicked him, and bit him, and hit him as best as she could. Yet she was bound by his spell. All she could do was shake with dread and hope beyond hope.

"This is no good..." the man grunted and pointed his wand at her.

"It's no use if you scream," he warned and suddenly the Stunning Spell was lifted off her. She clambered to her feet and backed against the wall as far away from him as possible, her heart pounding loudly in her ears in panic.

Then out of nowhere she heard a deep threatening growl. Before she could comprehend what was happening, her panicked eyes caught sight of an enormous black dog baring his teeth behind the drunken man. The next moment it jumped and attacked him before he could make a single step towards her. Albina widened her eyes in terror as the dog bit into the man's scarred hand and shook his head violently. The man screamed and released his wand.

At first Albina stood there frozen to the spot, unable to move as the large dog knocked her attacker on the ground with his large paws. But she quickly gathered her senses and jumped to get the man's wand, and then searched for her own two wands and found them covered in mud. She wiped them in her trousers and quickly pointed them towards the fighting man and the dog, her hands shaking.

"Staticorpus!" she yelled.

The two opponents froze in mid-fight, allowing Albina to approach them carefully. She ended her spell and pointed her wand at her attacker. The dog strangely stopped his attack as if nothing had happened and joined her side, growling warningly at the man.

The man cursed loudly and checked his shaking hands which were all scratched and bitten and covered in blood and mud.

Albina stared at him with revengefulness. She knew perfectly well what he had been intending to do with her. As she was feeling particularly vengeful, she pondered carefully what she should do with him. Subconsciously she took Kovran's wand into her left hand. A strange peaceful feeling slowly ran through her and suddenly words were formed somewhere in the back of her mind.

A spell came shooting out of her wand, hitting the man squarely in the chest. It knocked him on the ground. He moaned and hissed in pain. It was just a harmless Stinging Hex, but it surprised Albina. She had never successfully cast a spell nonverbally before.

"You will pay for this!" the man yelled and launched forward to grab his wand and hit her, but he only met the black dog's barred teeth. It now became clear to Albina that the dog was protecting her.

"Call it off, call the damn dog off!" the man screamed in panic.

Albina preformed the Static Spell again and separated both animals.

"Go away," she ordered and pointed her wand at him. The dog supported her command with deep growling.

The man didn't need to be told twice. He stumbled out of the narrow gap between buildings as fast as he could.

Albina breathed out a sigh of relief. She was still shaking, though, barely believing what had just happened. She glanced at the dog, which now obediently sat down and stuck out his tongue as it was customary for dogs.

"Thanks," she whispered and the dog let out a small bark as if he would have said something like, _"No problem."_

_No, dogs don't speak, at least not human language,_ Albina reminded herself.

She heaved a sigh and leaned on the wall to calm her beating heart and shaky hands. She had to Occlude, regain control and remain calm, otherwise Kovran will exploit the moment of weakness. _Never lose control._

Meanwhile the dog started to sniffle excitedly around her feet and waggle its tail.

"Where are you from anyway? Whom do you belong to?" Albina asked loudly.

The dog sat down again and looked quite affronted by her question.

"Oh, I see, you don't belong to anyone." She grinned and reached towards him with hesitation. "You're a stray dog, aren't you?"

He sniffed her hand loudly and stuck his head underneath, apparently wanting to be patted.

"You're awfully skinny... " she remarked as she was stroking him behind his ears. Her hands slowly stopped shaking. The dog's presence was calming and reassuring.

The dog snuffled around her pockets and her handbag, probably wanting to know if she had some food. He was obviously hungry. Unfortunately she had eaten everything that Fidele had packed in her lunch bag.

"You're snuffling awfully loudly... " she remarked and smiled. "It sounds as if you have a nasty cold. Do you have a name? You couldn't tell me anyway, could you?"

The dog sat down again and lifted his large paw as if he was trying to tell her something. Then he started sniffing loudly around her feet again.

"What if I call you Saviour?" she suggested.

The dog lifted his head smugly.

"You know what; I think you like that name a bit too much. How about Nero? No? You don't like it? Well, help me out here; I'm not perfect in English. What about… Shadow, since you're black?"

The dog gave out a strange low bark of appreciation.

"Maybe I can call you Tachek. It means something like Little Paw in my language," she said teasingly.

The dog shook his head vigorously as if he really disliked the name and held out his large paw.

"You're right, that doesn't really fit you, does it? You want an English name, don't you? How about Snuffles since you have a really loud runny nose?"

The dog suddenly barked loudly.

Albina smirked. "Well, you're the one who chose it. Don't say I didn't give you plenty of suggestions!"

Her expression sobered and she patted the dog gratefully. "You would have snuffed him out if he had hurt me, wouldn't you?" she whispered. "Yeah, the name fits you perfectly. Snuffles."

_Thousands of kilometres away in a small perfectly round tower fortress that the locals called the Brigand's Tower, one of the prisoners was humming a melody that his ears had never heard before. He didn't know who he was or where he was or why that melody refused to leave his mind. He didn't mind it much, though. The round cell at the very top of the tower was devoid and lonely. At least the song provided some amusement. He didn't understand much English, but he knew enough to be able to understand some parts of the lyrics that kept echoing in his mind._

_Don't go breaking my wand_

_I won't go breaking your wand…_

_Next thing he knew, unexplainable fear conquered him, making him scream for help and alert his guards. When they rushed in, they had no idea why the prisoner was asking them to let him keep the big black dog that had come to his rescue. _

sss

_Next: Snape puts his plan into action._

_Please leave a review! Thank you! _


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